What Makes A Home
by SALJStella
Summary: Lawrence has control now. He went through a whole life without control, and now he has it. So how can Adam take that away from him without doing anything? And how can he take it away while he's in chains, completely powerless? AdamLawrence AU crossover.
1. Prologue: Some Guys Do Drugs

**A/N: Okay, you know how my ego's usually so damn big? Well, even if you don't, my ego about this fic isn't as big as it is with the other ones, because… Well, I didn't write all of it! I co-wrote it with a fellow ChainShipper, jigsawl8n8, so she deserves half of the credit. And I'll take the other half. And I guess some of it should go to Leigh Whannell and James Wan and those guys, but… Let's say they didn't do anything for Saw! **

**A/N#2: Something you should know: This is a crossover between Saw and Kiss the Girls, in which movie Cary Elwes plays a very sexy and evil rapist. And in this fanfic, he meets Adam, who doesn't change, no matter what universe he's in! :)**

**Prologue: Some Guys Do Drugs **

Completely quiet.

There are usually at least some noise. Some rattling with the chains, some pounding on the doors or the walls, sometimes two of them knocking gently on the walls, trying to come up with some sort of Morse code with the person in the cell next to them.

Trying to get contact. As if Lawrence didn't give them enough of that.

But now, it's completely quiet. That almost annoys him. Only the dull thumps from his boots against the floor are heard, and what's he supposed to do with that?

Thumps don't give him a high. Thumps don't remind him that he has all these people, grown men, in the palm of his hand, with more power over them than he'd have over his own children.

Thumps aren't the same as whimpers, sobs, incoherent squeals that no one hears but people that can't do anything about it, anyway.

And that thought fills Lawrence with a feeling that he doesn't want there. Because then, it's like he put this much effort into nothing, because it was that feeling, this very feeling he was trying to escape by doing this.

The feeling of having no impact.

And it worked. Now, he has more impact than most people, the presidents and those big-shot Wall Street-workers and those cops that are chasing after him, he's more powerful than they'll ever be. He got what he wanted. It's just that he forgets it sometimes.

And to remind himself of it, he has to walk up to the door closest to him, take the keys out of his pocket.

He likes to rattle the keys a little while they're in the lock. That makes them even more scared, that little needlepoint of fear will already be lightened when he walks through the door this way. He won't have to light it himself.

He can focus fully on his job.

But he doesn't think that right now. That part of this is analyzed by his subconscious, since the majority of his brain is so aroused by now that his fingers are stiff and moist when they put the keys back in his pocket, the doorknob almost slips in his hand when he grabs it and opens the door.

He's so young.

The man in the room can't be more than thirty, hell, he must be around twenty-five, young and fit, his tanned chest have gotten pale from a few weeks down here, and his eyes widen so much when the door opens that Lawrence can actually see his pupils retract.

The dull glistening when the light from the open door reflects on his handcuffs.

The dried blood from an earlier session that's seeped from the diagonal wound on his stomach, found a way in between the little hairs below his navel.

It's so beautiful.

So beautiful that Lawrence can't even be as slow and tentative as he'd like, but is at the young man's bedside within a few heated, blurry seconds.

Strokes his cheek roughly. The brown eyes shine up on him in the darkness, and Christ, Lawrence is so horny that the lips that part and says those words feel like someone else's.

"Say that I own you."

And the young man says it, but Lawrence doesn't really care. He doesn't even hear it past the roaring of blood in his ears, and he's taken the pocket knife out of his sleeve before the words have even left the mouth beneath him, quivering in horror.

…**Yup, the guy's pure evil. But we know who can change that, don't we? (Wink wink) Anyway, please review! **


	2. Fragility

**A/N: Hi there! Missed me? Of course you did… Well, I blame my parents for the delay this time! Bastards, having to take my computer away… But I'm still sorry about the wait! Damn, you're lucky that I'm writing this with someone else… At least one of the people writing on this fic keeps her act together! Well, either way, here's a new semi-sick chapter! **

**1: Fragility**

Tonight's different than most nights, Adam has nothing to do at home, except for sitting on the couch and watching TV. So that's what he usually does.

But this night he's decided to go to a bar. After half an hour of just sitting and drinking beer he eventually realizes that he's bored.

For the first time in his life, he knows what it feels like to be bored. Not because he's never been bored before, it's quite the opposite. He's been bored all his life, but is to lazy to realize that that's what it is to be bored.

_What an amazing discovery,_ the little voice in his head says sarcastically. On which Adam tells it to shut up.

Okay, so he's bored, when people are bored they try to find something to do…

_So what am I going to do?_

Adam looks around but can't see anything. But than his eyes stop and settle on a sweet little girl sitting by a table. Alone.

He reluctantly walks up to her and sits down.

"Hi," he says.

The girl looks up, and then he sees tears in her eyes.

"Go away," she says and looks at the table again. "I don't want to see any guy right now, they don't understand anything about me."

The smile on Adam's face fades away.

"I do," he says, without knowing what he actually means.

The girl looks up again.

"How do you know that? You don't even know me! And now leave me alone!"

_Why does everything always goes wrong when I actually do something?_ Adam asks himself.

He decides to try one last time.

"But…" He starts until the girl cuts him off.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Adam nods, not rapidly, just tired, stands up and walks back to the other table.

_So what else is there to do…_

_Think hard, _the voice says._ You're in a bar. So what's in a bar?_

_Drinks…_

_Indeed…. and what do drinks do to you ?_

_They make you… forget._

_Exactly! So what are you going to do?_

I'm going to drink a whole lot of alcohol so I get drunk. And don't remember this failure tomorrow morning!

Adam nods to himself, walks up to the counter and orders a tequila.

A few of them should be enough. It's never taken him long to get drunk, since he weighs nothing and is about five inches long, which is incredibly useful.

There are so many things Adam would like to forget.

And the ironic thing is that if not so many things that he'd like to forget had happened, then maybe he would've eaten more. Maybe his stomach wouldn't have turned as soon as he saw anything he was expected to eat.

It would've been harder for him to forget things if there hadn't been so many things he wanted to forget. The irony.

Adam sweeps down the shot and cringes when the sharp taste settles like a thick fog over his palate.

Forgetting tonight might be hard, though. Taking that girl home would've been fun. She looked like the kind of girl that never would've gotten close to him, or ever even tried, because she knew just by looking at him that he wasn't that guy.

The kind of girl who could take care of herself. Adam wouldn't have to feel guilty, hell, he might not even have to do it, when he had the this-won't-work-talk with her.

He wouldn't have to take care of her, which is good, since he can't even take care of himself.

She'd just go home. Have a beer. Call a friend so they could sit on her bed, eat ice cream and talk about how much guys sucked.

God, he just made a map over this girl's whole life, and all he's gotten from her was a rejection. Adam sweeps down another shot.

Okay. This is good. His stomach is already getting warm and heavy. He'll be able to forget about tonight.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Lawrence has no idea why he went here last night. He rarely goes out unless he has to, and days like today, when he was unusually restless and uneasy, he usually goes out just to do something he doesn't really have to do, like shopping, or just walking around in circles until he'd worked up enough hollow arousal to go home and have some fun with one of his guys, but today, none of that seems to be enough.

He's bored. And the guys usually help with that, but they don't today.

That new one he'd been with earlier today had been nice, though. It was still his first time, so he was scared in a way the others aren't anymore. More confused, sobbing and howling, but eventually just squeezing his eyes shut and accepting it.

The others do that a lot sooner now. Because they've been with Lawrence long enough to know that there's no way out.

Either way, Lawrence is bored. So he's gone to a bar, and for once, not with the purpose of finding someone he can bring back. He just wants to get drunk, and hopefully fall asleep quick enough to be more energetic tomorrow. So he just walks up to the counter, sits down and orders a beer.

Tries not to think.

But it's hard to ignore it when someone is half-asleep on the chair next to you.

When Lawrence has gotten his beer, he turns to the man on his left. He's drunk, no question about it. His head is resting heavily on the counter, with his hands between like some sort of padding. His face is probably usually pale, but now, the alcohol has forced most of his blood up to his face, his eyelashes cast shadows over deeply flushed cheekbones.

His hands are so small. Almost disappear beneath the thick texture of his dark hair.

And as usual, as every time Lawrence sees something that helplessly tiny and fragile, the urge to break it almost gets to much, everything else disappears and his heart seems to pound so strongly that the all rest of the body throbs with it.

He has to break it.

So he grabs the young man's shoulder and shakes it until the heavy eyelids slid open and two palely grey eyes stare dimly at him.

"Kid," Lawrence says, plans to let go of his shoulder but realizes that if he does that, his head will fall back down again. "What's your name."

The young man doesn't even seem to hear him. His pupils are sort of bobbing, like corks in water, and now that his head is straightened up, Lawrence sees that he's so pale that the very color of his lips has faded out.

"When I was a kid, my parents got divorced," the young man says, in a way that sounds like he can't really put a gap between his words.

"Okay," Lawrence says. "Do you need help home?"

"It was hard," the kid continues, and when he straightens up even more, he has to grab the hand that's holding his shoulder to keep from falling from his stool. "They kept fighting. All the time. They… Fighted. No, that's not what you say. Fighted… Fighteded…"

"Fought," Lawrence corrects.

"Yes!" The young man exclaims, and now, he actually does fall down from his chair, he falls down backwards without making a sound, and Lawrence jumps up from his own chair, takes a big leap up to the frail little body on the ground.

The kid just looks mildly surprised. Like he doesn't really understand how he could be on his chair one second and the floor the next, and Lawrence doesn't expect him to. He just grabs him under his arms and pulls him to his feet, and God, he feels every bone in his shoulders, and they feel so thin, so thin, like Lawrence could snap them like twigs.

Like he has complete power over the little person that's almost fallen asleep again now, he's leaning against Lawrence and his head is dropping, Lawrence feels the warmth of his body through the clothes, a steady point of heat in the swarming of people rushing around them and the buzz of their bad pickup-lines that's scraping against the ceiling.

Like the kid in his arms belongs to Lawrence.

Like he's real and true, an actual person instead of a devil, like most people on this planet.

Like he's something Lawrence can posses. And he will.

Because the arousal that rises up in him at this thought is even bigger than the one he felt with the young man he was with earlier today. Because that man was just a thing, a sweaty body in the darkness, scared eyes glistening up at him.

The kid Lawrence is holding is a human, he's a living, breathing thing that drinks and gets sad when his parents split up and that falls asleep with his head on his hands. And Lawrence never sees that with any of his victims, never hears a word they say that isn't a desperate plea for him to stop, just stop, he just spots them, follows them, they never even manage to get back home until they're his. Until he's claimed them as his own.

And just these few, drunken words that he's heard Adam saying, with no gaps between the words and no grammar knowledge whatsoever, is enough to turn him into something special.

"What's your name?" Lawrence asks again, and the kid's head snaps back up.

"Adam."

It's barely audible. But Lawrence nods.

"Adam, I'll take you back to my place now. I'll take care of you. Okay?"

Adam doesn't answer, his head's already fallen back down. And Lawrence is so horny that when he takes the little body and drags it out to his car, he can't even feel his hands anymore.

**Hehehe… Isn't it fun when you can turn doctor I'm-a-sane-and-focused-individual into such a sicko? Anyway, the next chapter awaits you… IF you review! Those who don't review will be DITCHED by the third chapter! …Or something. XD**


	3. Merely Daydreams

**A/N: Hi there! The people who read this should thank your lucky star that I'm co-writing this fic with someone… Apparently it takes a second part to keep my act in gear with the updates. Thanks, Merel! (jigsawl8n8) Anyway, things actually are heating up in this chapter… Almost. At least we're a step in the right direction! **

**2: Merely Daydreams**

Lawrence has never killed. He's pretty proud of that.

Not a lot of guys would be able to collect young men and chain them up in an old basement, put guns to their heads, whip them, cut them and do so many other things that can make human hearts stop beating, since they're so fragile, so fragile, and still not kill anyone. What bothers him, though, is that while he's driving down the freeway with Adam next to him in the front seat, is that he now more than ever feels like he's trying to convince himself of this.

He hasn't killed anyone. Not anyone. There was one time, and that was an accident. And the reason he has to spend so much time repressing every thought of that one time is that he knows that if he thinks too much about it, he will forget what is real.

He will remember things that didn't happen, and he will twist and turn these new facts around and around until they prove nothing but his guilt.

He will make up his own evidence to prove that he did kill. He will see a neck in a strange angle, blood seeping through skin, wounds that split open, hungry, wanting mouths, eager to devour his sanity.

And if he sees that, he will feel guilty, and that's an enormous waste of time.

So many things could've been done differently. So many lives could've been saved.

And Lawrence feeling guilty won't change any of that.

Lawrence has to squeeze his eyes shut and snap them open again to stay awake. It's not really late, but Adam is sound asleep next to him, his forehead is leaning against the window, and he looks so awfully peaceful that Lawrence really wants nothing but to just stop the car right here, lean down on Adam's shoulder, sleep there, sleep with him. Completely unconditional, because he loves him.

He does love him. It's true.

Lawrence loves all his prisoners. Really. All of them are _- you're sounding like him now, you said you'd never sound like him - _like his children.

That one kid was that, too. Lawrence really loved him, he might've even been his favorite. Lawrence did want to keep him there, keep playing around with him, but as it was, times got hard, Lawrence became too human and the wounds on the skin didn't devour sanity, but pride, and he'd been forced to fix it. No matter what.

He had to fix it. And he still believes that his way of fixing things will always be better than other people's ways.

He will not be a part of the norm. Ever.

Lawrence arrives home about half an hour later. A rotten branch has gotten caught in his tire, it makes a wet, jagged sound when it drags against the ground.

Lawrence hasn't dared to stop and remove it, though. After all these years, the fear of catching a glimpse of blinking, blue lights in his rearview mirror when he drives back home is always there, a monster that hovers silently outside his door.

So he kept driving. Driving and driving and driving until the forest drenched all streetlights and the only thing that led the way was his own instinct. And he doesn't stop until he can see the uneven pattern of the broken blinders in his kitchen window just a feet away from his windshield. Adam hasn't woken up yet, and when the engines stop running beneath him, all he does is stirring and grumbling. He rubs a fist against his eye, and Lawrence turns to him with his hand lingering on the handle of his car door.

Adam isn't awake. He doesn't have to be.

Even when he's sleeping, and his face is turned to Lawrence and it's so pale that it shines like a moon through the darkness, he breaks something out of Lawrence. A feeling he hasn't even had to suppress, because it's so far out of his emotional life that it hasn't even been an option.

Because when Adam's sleeping so soundly, and when he stirs and rubs his fist against his eye, he looks cute. And when he looks cute, it makes Lawrence think about his parents that got divorced, the way he slurs his speech when he's drunk and the small, small hands that disappeared beneath his head when he was sleeping on them.

Adam looks cute. And Lawrence gets aroused in a way that he doesn't usually get.

He gets aroused in the meaning that he wants to kiss Adam before he has sex _- you won't call it rape, you still won't call it rape because you don't want to be like him - _with him.

Lawrence doesn't have to stare at Adam long to get over that feeling, though. Just a few deep breaths, just a few curses at his blood vessels for settling in his crotch in an annoying and completely pointless way, before he can open his door, walk over to Adam's side, open his door and pick him up.

He doesn't usually have to do that. He has a little wheelbarrow inside that he uses on them when they're tied up. He doesn't know why he doesn't get it now. Maybe he just knew he wouldn't need it.

Adam is so light. A frail little baby bird that's fallen out of its nest, and into the hands of an innocently eager little boy.

Lawrence can feel every bone in his body. He feels the fragile texture of Adam's skull against his chest, and the weird tingling that spreads in his veins at that feeling doesn't even go away when Adam lifts his head and looks at him through a haze of alcohol.

"What're you…"

Lawrence can almost hear the dryness in his mouth when he talks. He doesn't look at Adam, though, he doesn't know what would happen if he did and he doesn't want to know.

"Don't worry, Adam," he says in a voice he hopes doesn't sound too husky. "I'll take care of you."

Lawrence takes the keys out of his pocket, he almost drops Adam in the process. Still doesn't look at him.

"You will?"

Adam almost whispers. Lawrence unlocks the door, stares at the handle so hard that his eyes get tired.

"Yeah, I will."

"Okay…"

Adam leans his head against his chest again when Lawrence opens the door, sends a final glance over his shoulder and then turns on the light in the hallway.

"I trust you."

And Lawrence freezes in a motion when he's about to step in. And now, he has to look at Adam.

Adam is sleeping soundly again, he's pressed up against Lawrence in a way that brings his erection out again, with a force that no threats in the world can tie down. And once again, he looks so incredibly _adorable _that it's almost insufferable.

It's obvious that his last words where drunken gibberish. Adam won't remember that he said them tomorrow, and God knows if he even was aware that he said them right now.

But that doesn't matter.

Lawrence still can't either kiss or have sex with Adam when he's found a free cell, locked him up and put the key in his pocket. He has to lean his back against the heavy steel door, slowly slide down, put his hand on his forehead and put all his focus on breathing normally.

xxxxxxxxxxx

The rattling of a key in a lock wakes him up. His head is throbbing hard and he wasn't even remotely aware of what was happening.

He opens his eyes but can't see anything, _he isn't blind, is he?_ Adam thinks hard, he feels the thought grinding against his temples, and concludes that he isn't. He remembers seeing a girl sitting at a table alone, he saw that so he must have the ability to see…

All of a sudden, the light is turned on, and it still takes Adam a few seconds to realize that that was the reason he hadn't been able to see anything.

The sudden, sharp light causes the throbbing in his head to go even faster, as well as his heartbeat. He squeezes his eyes shut so hard that a lonely tear runs down his cheek.

He hears slow footsteps walking up to him, he hears it, but everything happens in slow motion, in some kind of…

Dream world.

He slowly opens his eyes, just a little bit, just to see what's happening in the real world. His vision is blurry, but he sees a dark contour. Moving closer to him.

_What the hell is going on? _Is this a dream? Maybe a nightmare? Or is he just drunker than he thought?

Deep down, Adam knows it isn't. It isn't any of these things. He has no idea what this is, but it's definitely for real, and he's so incredibly scared and this is a good way of convincing himself that he shouldn't be. So he closes his eyes again, and if he just tries hard enough, he'll be able to control his dreams. And change them.

_Think about something beautiful and nice._

He should be able to do this.

_A beautiful girl. More beautiful than the one you saw in the bar a million years ago. You love her and she loves you. Now, put both your hands on her cheeks, move closer to her. Slowly, very slowly._

_And then you kiss her. And she kisses you back, and it's good, it's perfect, it's the best kiss you have ever given anyone._

Adam can see every second of it happening in head mind, but it still feels very far away. There is no sound, just the image of the most beautiful girl he's ever seen.

He wants to move his hands to put them on her perfect - _oh_ so perfect - cheeks. But they're stuck in something. Adam furrows his brows and tries again but they can't move, something is restraining them.

He opens his eyes. Nothing has changed. He's in the exact same room as he was in before, and the handcuffs he can't deny anymore are still locked to his wrists, still keeping him from covering up the places on his body that are shivering.

He doesn't want to know why. He knows why, but he wishes he didn't.

A handsome man is standing next to it, smiling. For some reason, which he still doesn't want to know, Adam gets even more scared.

It's a polite smile. But it still feels like he's going to hurt him any second now. It's a smile that Adam hasn't seen before. Just like everything else in this situation, it's completely rare and he's never felt or seen anything like it before, but just like everything else, he doesn't mourn that at all, not one bit.

_This is it for you, Adam. _

_You're going to die right now. _

**Don't worry, Adam won't die. Not even Lawrence is enough of a bastard to kill something this sweet and cuddly! Of course, if you've seen Kiss the Girls, you know the things he **_**is **_**bastard enough to do… But that's beside the point. Anyway, review! **


	4. What Happens When You Die

**A/N: Hey, hey! I know, I know, I left it at a cliffhanger at the last chapter and you hate me now, but fortunately, as we all know, this is a joint fic, so I can put half of the blame on someone else! Merel, this is your fault! Anyway, read on! **

**3: What Happens When You Die**

For a long time, Adam just stares at him. That smile doesn't go away, and even though he only sees the contours of it, Adam wants it to.

He wants to close his eyes, and when he opens them again, that smile will go away. Because Adam refuses to believe that that's not possible.

"Hello, Adam."

"Hi."

What else can he do? Because he really has the feeling that if he doesn't reply to everything he says, that pain in the joints of his shoulders will go from a sharp kind of numbness to wet and splashing, it will spray out over the dirty sheets.

The shadow of a man walks up to the bed. His boots make dull sounds against the floor, the light from the door still keeps Adam from seeing his face, but he doesn't want to see, _doesn't fucking want to! _

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

But he's scared. He's so scared.

The shadows chuckles, like it's trying to convince him that he actually is the human who's light he's stolen, and sits down on the edge of his bed.

"Are you hung over, then?"

"Mm."

"You want something to drink?"

"Mm."

Adam knows that he has to answer. But in the meantime, he doesn't know what he's allowed to say.

The shadow will hurt him. He knows that, too. It will suck light of him and there's a good chance he's never going to get out of here.

He just wants to prolong it as long as possible.

The shadow bends down and picks up a glass of water, a trembling dot of yellowish light forms in it from the door. Adam doesn't want to show any dependence to this guy, not at all, but he still finds himself stretching his neck as much as he can, up to the only salvation to the tongue that's sticking to his palate.

The shadow puts a hand behind Adam's head and bends it even further until his neck actually hurts, and when the glass is put to his mouth, he drinks with such greediness that most of it ends up on his shirt, but he doesn't care. It feels like the water's spread to the rest of his body, made it a lot easier to live in, even though everything still hurts.

The shadow puts the glass back down. The momentarily bliss that the water managed to give him goes away the second Adam swallows, and they only stare at each other again, one not daring to speak, one just relishing the fear that rises like a heat wave through the room.

"My name is Lawrence."

_Lawrence, _Adam wishes he'd been able to say. _If you don't even have the goddamned brains to get that you're not human, I still prefer to call you 'Shadow.' _

"I don't know if you remember, but…" Lawrence - _shadow - _begins, almost gently, "we met a few hours ago. In the bar. Do you remember?"

Adam nods eagerly before he even manages to register the question, but when he's stopped, he looks at the rough half of Lawrence's face that he can see, and it's like looking at an old picture, something that happened long ago and try to remember the date.

"Good," Lawrence says.

Adam waits for him to continue. Or at least for that friendly glimpse in the one eye that's in the light of the open door to go away, so Adam knows that it's time to do whatever he brought him in here for and brace himself for it. But Lawrence stays quiet, and he looks just as politely sweet as before, with the expression Adam's boss has to have when he says that one of his pictures are good for Adam to believe him.

So when finally does move, and it's just a simple lifting of the hand to stroke Adam's cheek, that's enough to make Adam startle so his handcuffs rattle.

Lawrence smiles. And now, he's really scared.

"Adam," Lawrence says.

He almost purrs it out, the hand is smooth and gentle on Adam's face.

Why is that more terrifying than waking up in handcuffs? Why is it so horrible that someone's stroking your cheek?

"Adam, you're perfect. You know that?"

Adam can't even answer. He can't feel his tongue anymore, because now, the tone is different. Lawrence doesn't say it like he means it, he says it like he's calling for a little animal that he wants to hurt.

"I knew it," Lawrence murmurs, his head moves down and Adam feels something hot and wet planting marks across his neck. Like a vampire. "I knew it from the second I saw you, I knew you were perfect…"

It's so childish.

But Adam doesn't understand what he's done to deserve this, doesn't understand why it doesn't just stop and someone comes to take him far away, far away from here.

But nobody comes to take him away. Nobody wants to safe him from this awful place and the shadow that's starting to look more and more like a real person.

He's so close, Adam feels his breath on his neck. He's going to kill him, he's going to bite him right there and then. He'll bite him hard and slowly, very slowly all his blood will drop out of that very wound. Slowly.

And Lawrence red eyes will be the last thing he'll see in this world, they'll be red like a devil. Because he is, he is the devil. And he'll take Adam to his own personal hell. The hell he deserves because he never ever appreciated what he had, he had the greatest thing in the world and he let it slip.

Lawrence is the devil, and he drinks blood. The warmth he feels on his neck is broken by something warm and sharp, and Adam realizes, even though he knew it long ago but didn't want to think the thought, that it's teeth. It's Lawrence's teeth on his neck. He has bitten him, and it's over, he feels warm blood dripping down.

_You're going to die right now. _

A tear runs down Adam's face. He doesn't want it to, but then again, he doesn't want any of this to happen.

He wants to go away. He just wants to go away from here.

"I don't want to die leave me alone!"

In one single sentence. He's breathing hard out of pure horror, coming from the bottom of his heart, something deeper beneath those childish thoughts about suicide he's mostly thought to see if someone would hear them, just to make himself unhappy enough to feel alive.

No one wants to die. He realizes that now.

Not even unhappy Adam Faulkner.

Lawrence stops at Adam's scream and straightens up. A concerned look in his eyes.

"I'm not going to kill you, Adam. You're to… Perfect."

Adam swallows a sob and takes a few burning breaths until he dares to look at Lawrence, expecting to see red eyes and a mouth with to big monstrous teeth. Ready to kill him.

But Lawrence face still has the same polite smile, the only thing that has changed is the look in his eyes. It's filled with something that can only be described with pure lust, a horrible, cold and possessing kind of lust that Adam has never seen before and doesn't ever want to see again.

If he's ever going to get out of here.

"You're not?" Adam asks through the lid he's put over his throat to suppress the sobs.

The scared childish look in his eyes makes Lawrence want him even more, Adam sees that on him, before he quickly shakes his head and bends down again.

"Close your eyes, Adam," he mumbles into Adam's neck, he literally feels the words against his skin. "Just enjoy it."

He kisses his neck once more, licks up the blood that's leaked out from the wound in Adam's neck, and Adam wants to get away, wants a whole damn new life and another body that he can step into when he feels Lawrence lifting his face again and slowly starts to unbutton Adam's pants, takes them off, slowly.

He loves every second of it. Adam hates him even more, and Adam's back is still arching up for some reason when Lawrence has ripped off Adam's shirt he starts kissing his neck from his chest and down, down…

_No,_ Adam says to himself, _I won't think about this. This is not happening. I'm just dreaming, just…_

But then his thoughts are broken and he moans loudly when Lawrence comes to that very part of his body that still loves this.

That part that doesn't care who's doing this. That part that doesn't care if he's raped or not. If he's locked up and handcuffed or just in his own safe bed.

It's not a dream. But Adam knows that it has to be.

Lawrence grabs Adam's cock in one hand and strokes his cheek with his other again.

"You're so perfect, Adam. You're mine."

Adam nods briskly and closes his eyes, waits for what's going to come and hoping that it won't be something that any part of his body can like. But then Lawrence tries to turn Adam around with his stiff, rigid hands, before he remembers that Adam's hands are still handcuffed to the bed.

No. Please, God, no.

Adam's wrists are twisted in an unnatural angle, a pain shoots like an electric shock through his arms and he screams in pain, more tears start pressing against his throat, but he won't cry. No matter what.

At first, Lawrence doesn't know what's gone wrong. But when he actually realizes what he's missed, he takes a little key out of his pocked and shakily opens Adam's handcuffs.

"Don't move," He commands with a hoarse voice.

Adam wasn't really planning to move. He'll just lie there until it's over. It won't take long. It'll be over soon.

Plus, it's okay. It's okay.

This isn't happening. Of course it isn't happening.

How could it happen? This is America, people don't just… Kidnap people from bars and drag them back to their home. They don't shackle them to bedposts, they don't button down their pants and straddle your back.

It doesn't happen. And even if it would happen, it would happen to some beautiful, drunken girl, it'd happen to that girl that he tried to talk to right before Lawrence sat down next to him. Not to him.

Not to him.

So Adam squeezes his eyes shut, he presses his hands against both sides of his head, he tries to make himself completely air-tight, bites into the pillow until the fabric shaves against his gums, because he won't give that fucking bastard the satisfaction to hear him cry. Not when it isn't even happening to him, because no one would be that cruel.

Not even if Satan or Lawrence himself was ruling the world would he put Adam through hell and leave this waiting on the other side. No one would be that cruel.

"You need to start relaxing, Adam. It'll hurt a lot less."

He sounds concerned. And Adam promised himself not to cry, make any noise, satisfy any of these sick needs he knows Lawrence has for some reason, but his heart is weak and lonely, no one's sounded concerned about him in years, so at this, he turns around.

Lawrence is still a shadow.

"Can you… please," the words hurt. "Can you just…"

Instead of the solid, unreliable lid he put over the tears, it's something thick and salty that blocks the words on the way up. Lawrence looks at him, waiting, he has all the time he needs.

After Adam's calmed himself down, he tries again.

"Just please… Don't do it ?"

The thick and salty melts and dribbles down his face, Adam wipes them away violently, and Lawrence smiles sweetly in a way that doesn't fit the raw, bestial lust in his eyes. At all.

"It's why you're here, Adam. You're going to have to start getting used to it."

After those words, he aggressively pushes Adam's head into the pillow, he doesn't see anything after that. He kissed him harshly with his tongue deep inside his mouth, and Adam feels something hot and hard against his lower back. And then Lawrence pulls away, and Adam can't help but thinking that he should just fuck him so he can lie down and die, but instead, Lawrence lingers in front of his face, one slow, heaving breath mixes with a shallow, quivering one.

"Say that I own you."

"No."

"Say it."

"You own me."

And Lawrence kisses him again, hot and wet, and leaves Adam's mouth feeling emptier than it's done through the entire years he's been alone.

Why he's here. Why he won't go away.

That, and the fact that he feels something hot and hard pressing into the mattress beneath him, too. The fact that he's lonely.

The fact that he likes this weather he wants to or not, simply because he hasn't felt this in forever, has never been treated like he was desirable, like he was wanted.

Like he was perfect.

Adam tries not to think after that. He feels a black, humming vacuum, like a disturbed radio frequency tensing up in his head, he feels Lawrence pushing into him and he tries not to think about it, tries to think about the black, raging want that fills his body, pulses with it but tries to think that it's for some other reason.

It's not because he likes this. It's not.

And later on, Adam will have a weak memory of thinking something else when Lawrence moans one last time and the thrusts get slower. Something that isn't just a hollow ringing, ghosts calling through the mist, but something real. A name.

_John… _

So much worse than the thrusts.

_Johnny… I need you…_

**Not that much of a cliffhanger… But maybe a little bit. ;) Anyway, please review! **


	5. But What If There's No Other Way?

**A/N: Wah, what a long update… Sorry about that. Well, since I still have to excuse myself, I've been on a place without Internet for a long time, and the young lady who I'm writing this with has come to visit me, and then I had to fight all writers' nature and be social. It was horrible… XD Anyway, read on! **

**4: But What If There's No Other Way?**

There are no windows in the room. It's so dark that it feels like it absorbs him.

That's what his life has been like up until now. Darkness.

Nothing special has happened, nothing important, the only little bit of light he saw was Johnny, but that's over now. That light has faded out. And Adam's never had a problem with that. At least that's what he's told himself.

And the weird thing is, no matter how dark Lawrence looks, no matter how dark the things he did are, he still feels like a new light in his life.

He's afraid of him, sure. But at least he makes his life change. And maybe Adam's life has just been about miserable enough to make anything different good.

It doesn't have to be good. It just has to be _new. _

Plus, enough suicide ideas have crossed his mind but he's never had the courage to fulfill them. Now somebody else would help him with that, and he got a little fun before. What's wrong about that?

What can possibly be bad with ridding the world of useless little Adam Faulkner?

He's still afraid of death, and he knows deep down that he will cry, and he knows that he will try not to. But he refused to think about that right now. And Lawrence will still have fun with him for a while, almost exactly as long as it usually takes for Adam to get tired of having sex with the same person, and he will end his life after twenty-eight years, and that's how long it usually takes for him to get tired of living the same goddamned life, in the same goddamned apartment, with the same goddamned darkness closing around him. And without someone who enlightened it, even if it's just by being different.

So what's wrong with that? _What's wrong about that? _

Adam's sitting in a corner of the bed. The shackles are gone, his wrists hurt and he cries and cries and cries without even knowing it and if he did, he wouldn't be ashamed at all, like a little kid that's just fallen on the ground and hurt his knee.

He feels nothing, and at the same time, too much. His head can't bear all the feelings and there's nothing wrong about that.

Lawrence is still there, he hasn't left. He's in the foot of Adam's bed, drinking in the lustful feeling of power, until for some reason, he's disturbed by Adam's sobs and looks at him.

Before he realizes what he's doing, he's spoken.

"Come here." Nodding.

Adam first looks at him like he thinks he's joking, before he shakes his head and puts his hand on the bedpost to make sure he has his grip on something. Like that would give him control.

He won't let Lawrence drag him closer, and he certainly won't come closer himself.

Once again, like that would give him power.

Adam doesn't know why he bothers. He knows that he'll get closer to Lawrence one way or the other, Lawrence can move closer or loosen his grip or put Adam over his shoulder and put him in a chair with shackles on the armrests, place Adam there and sit down across his lap and rape him and rape him and rape him.

For some reason, Adam doesn't find unbelievable at all that Lawrence has one of those in his basement.

But he still won't move closer to him.

All of a sudden, Adam understands why all those girls who've been raped so desperately want to shower afterwards, and when they could, why they didn't want to go outside anymore. He feels dirty and tainted. So dirty that he will never be able to wash it away.

"Come here. I'm not going to hurt you."

"No."

"Come here!"

"I won't."

Lawrence sighs and moves closer to Adam himself. Adam's eyes widen when Lawrence grabs his neck and pushes his head onto his lap. Too gently. It doesn't feel like him.

Unfortunately, Adam knows him well enough to know that.

Lawrence strokes Adam's hair so calmly and comforting that Adam almost forgets what's happened, since that's what usually happens when anyone shows any kind of affection towards him.

He's an easy prey. Maybe Lawrence knew that.

It goes on for a while. But eventually, Adam heaves his head up and looks up at Lawrence.

"Why are you being so nice to me now?"

Lawrence shakes his head.

"I don't know."

That's true. Normally he rapes _(has sex, or at least call it fuck)_ and leaves. And he shows no emotions whatsoever.

But somehow, he feels the urge to comfort Adam. He can't leave him crying like the others. And it disgusts him, he hates Adam just because there is something so goddamned special about him, and Lawrence couldn't figure out what it was.

"You're not letting me go, are you?" Adam asks.

He doesn't look at Lawrence. He can't.

Lawrence shakes his head again.

"No."

"Why not?" Adam says, and suddenly, the words are streaming out, he couldn't stop them if he tried. "Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this to me?"

"Adam," Lawrence says, their voices almost overlap each other, and his is calm and crisp like frost on grass, but Adam still feels his fingertips clenching into his scalp. "I really think you shouldn't ask that."

Adam quiets down immediately. Technically, he still feels nothing, but it wouldn't be right to put it like that.

He feels nothing.

Except for the fear, so big and so filling and so dreadfully present in every cell in his body that it's become a part of him. He doesn't feel it because that'd be like feeling your heartbeats or hearing the whispers of his regret for what could've been.

You don't feel yourself. You don't feel what will be forever present from now on.

Adam knows. He knows it from experiences he wishes he didn't have.

"I'm not allowed to ask while I'm here, am I?"

His voice is so thin. Like lithium waving through the air between them.

"Sure you are," Lawrence says. "Just don't expect me to answer that many of the questions you ask."

Fingers loosen up again, run through hair softly.

"I do own you," Lawrence says softly, and Adam's gaze is loosely fixed on the opposite wall. "Don't forget that."

The opposite wall is dirty. Something grey is smeared over the joint between the wall and the floor. Filling, maybe?

Maybe something to hide up a hole in the floor, a passage under the wall. To the room on the other side. Something to keep Adam from seeing that hole, digging through it, with what doesn't matter, it could be a spoon or a paperclip or his own goddamned fingernails.

It doesn't matter. Adam has to get out. And that filling keeps him from doing that.

And for some reason, it's not until then that Adam remembers who he is. Because it's true, you don't feel yourself, you don't feel who you are, that's something that has to be brought out, by yourself or someone else, or filling between the wall and the floor.

But in Adam's case, it's the filling that makes him remember that he doesn't roll up in a ball and sobs until it's over, he doesn't wait for the storm to pass over his head, he stands up, spreads his arms and screams into the storm until he can swallow the wind. He fights until he falls and he hopes that he doesn't fall until the fight is actually over.

Adam's not sad about everything that's gone wrong. He's angry, he's senselessly angry, and he remembers that now, it's a memory that rushes to his head, makes it throbbing and hot, and he sits up with a flush spreading across his pale face. Lawrence looks at him with lazy astonishment.

"You don't. Fucking. Own me," Adam spits out and feels his hands balling up into fists around the sheets. "Stop saying that you own me, and stop making me say that, because you don't. I'm my own. Okay? I'm mine."

He wants to scream, but he hasn't remembered the fear yet. It's still just there without standing out from the rest that is him, and it keeps his voice down, but Adam gets the feeling Lawrence hadn't paid more attention if Adam had grabbed a knife and carved the words into his forehead. He still looks at Adam like he's a half-interesting movie.

But when he grabs his collar - yes, Adam's still wearing his shirt, it's only his lower body that's interesting apparently - and spins it deeper and deeper into his hands until their faces are inches apart again, Adam knows that he listened. To every word.

And it'd been better for Adam if he hadn't.

"Adam," Lawrence says, and now, his eyes are completely blank, "maybe I don't own you, but your life is completely, utterly and in every single possible way, in my hands, and I can either make it good for you and end it right here and right now, or I can make it even better by keep fucking you until I get tired of it and then end it. It all depends on what you allow me to do, okay?"

Adam nods eagerly before Lawrence has even finished the sentence, because now, the fear has broken loose, and he feels it, he has to feel it to survive and he does, he feels it.

He feels it. And Lawrence knows that he does. That's why he puts Adam down and walks out the door, that's why his eyes flutter briefly down to his lips before he does.

That's why he feels that hollow, cold arousal return, and that's why he can't just stay for an extra ten minutes and sleep with him again.

For some reason, Adam isn't that much of a turn-on when he's just afraid, instead of using the fear as a cover for his lust.

In fact, just looking at him sends such a rush of the warm, terrible feeling Lawrence hasn't felt in a really long time and is just about frightening enough to make him shut the door behind him, shut the door on those fearfully shining eyes in the darkness.

Adam makes a low whimper when he hears the keys turning in the lock, closing the door on every hope.

It's one of those things you've known all along, but hasn't had the courage to admit.

He's going to stay here. Lawrence was serious.

Adam is going to stay here until Lawrence gets tired of him. And when he is, of course he can't just let him go, because of course Adam's going to go straight to the cops that will lock Lawrence up, and he's going to have to find a new bitch when he's in prison.

Of course it'd be so much more efficient to just end it right there, take his vampire teeth and suck the life out of him until he's an empty shell.

The last thing Adam's going to feel is that arousal that he doesn't want to feel, that knowledge that he's absolutely sick but still too turned on to care.

The last thing Adam's going to see is that face.

Lawrence's face pressing up against him, that warm, wet tongue that seems so big when it's in his mouth, like it could slip down his throat and block his breathing. And maybe he'll see Johnny behind him, the face that's so much worse than Lawrence's because he can't block it out, the straight nose and those brown eyes that always look sad in a way.

He would hear Johnny's voice, so melancholy and still so full of hope, chanting softly over Lawrence's shoulder.

_It'll be fine, Adam, I promise. Just breathe, breathe until he's done and he's had his way, and he'll be gone. It'll be fine. _

Because Johnny had always thought that. In his head, there was nothing that Adam couldn't do, nothing that was stronger than him, he'd believed in Adam so intensely that Adam had actually started doing it himself.

So why does Adam hate him more than he hates Lawrence, why does he see his face on every person that passes him on the street and wants to punch it every time, why has he thrown out everything in his apartment that Johnny's ever touched because he thought that'd make the ghosts disappear? Why has he done that?

And why is Johnny's voice the one that tells him everything he needs to hear, why does Adam listen to any advice he gives him no matter how much he hates himself for it?

_Because you love me, Adam. _

"Fuck you," Adam whispers into the pillow.

_Or maybe you don't. But you did. You loved me for a very long time, you can't deny that. And during the time you did, you listened to my advices, right? Maybe it's just hard to make yourself stop doing that? _

"Fuck you. Fuck you."

So pitifully. And so pointlessly.

Johnny will never go away. He will be there to the end of Adam's days, and fortunately, that doesn't seem to be very far away, but at least he quiets down now. It's never been easy for him to talk back at Adam, except for when he felt like it was necessary. Right now, Adam wishes he'd thought that more often.

Maybe things had been different.

Adam rolls over to his back. Looks at a ceiling he can't even see.

_Adam, _he says to himself, instead. _You fucking little pussy, just suck it up. _

_Okay, so you're stuck here. So what? You haven't had a decent fuck since Johnny, and suddenly, here comes a guy that not only is damn good at it, but also says that you're perfect. He won't take you out for a long time just because of that, as long as you do as he says. _

_You're going to be Sherezade. You're going to be his Sherezade, only she told stories to the guy who was going to kill her as soon as she stopped, and you're just going to lie there and take it. And you can do that, you've done worse. _

_You're going to do exactly as he says, and he might keep you for as long as he finds you interesting. _

_You're going to do exactly as he says, partly because it'll keep you alive, and partly because you love it. _

_And you're going to do it because if you think about what your life has been like up until now, that's still a pretty expensive price to pay for it. _

**Aw, Adam's so self-loathing… Well, imagining him as someone with Lawrence's ego is almost as painful as imagining him with Lawrence's haircut, so I guess we'll have to keep going this way. XD Anyway, hope you'll review! **


	6. When Everything Else Is Lost

**A/N: Hi, everybody! I guess you don't have to ask if you've missed this fanfic, since we all know that Lawrence being a psycho and Adam being submissive and heartbroken in an adorable way is a plot that never gets old! XD Anyway, if we're trying to be humble for a second, I hope it'll be worth the wait, even if there's no real sex in this chapter… **

**5: When Everything Else Is Lost**

Lawrence has never killed. And that's good.

But for the first time sine he started this, he's actually afraid of doing it.

The control scares him in the same time as he would stop existing without it, he'd be drained of air and his face would fall apart.

Everyone he's ever raped has meant nothing to him. They hadn't been people, they'd been things. His things, his own little toys that screamed and cried and begged for mercy.

He'd owned them.

And he will never own Adam. He knows that somehow.

He's seen guys fighting back before. It's not the first one someone's told them that he doesn't own them, and it's certainly not the first time he's taken it back as soon as Lawrence uses his sharp tones and his sharp fingertips in his scalp, but it didn't help, didn't make him feel better.

Even when Adam took it back, it didn't change anything. He was still himself, and that was enough. His eyes had been wide, terrified, but Lawrence had still seen it.

He'd looked straight into them and seen Adam, this frail little creature who was so beaten up, so lost and so lonely, but never belonging to anyone. Always going somewhere, always his own.

And not even if he wanted to, would Adam ever be able to change that.

Maybe that was what was special with him.

The fact that Lawrence would've given the world to be like him when he was younger.

The thought strikes Lawrence like a whack over the head, and he gets so surprised that he actually lifts his chin from his hand and stare with lazy surprise on a point in front of him, like the thing that astonishes him is written on the dirty wall.

If he'd been like Adam, if he'd belonged to no one and being so free that he couldn't even keep himself trapped if he knew that things would get even worse if he tried to break loose…

Maybe things had been different.

Maybe not even He would be able to touch him if he'd been like Adam.

Maybe Adam is the only one of his prisoners that he will never even be able to kill. Because he's the same collection of damaged goods that Lawrence once was.

Maybe Lawrence is filled with a need to fix him that's so big that it just gets bigger, fills every cell in his body, expands it and makes him bigger and that's when it turns into rage, that's when he realizes what he just thought and stands up, slams his door open, strides through the hallways and can see through the doors how they all hover up on their beds when they hear him passing.

They don't matter. They're not important.

Adam is important. He's so incredibly, senselessly, _fucking _important that Lawrence can't have him there, can't have anything that he attaches to like he attached to Him, like he depended on someone who saw him the way he sees the ones that are now startling at the mere sounds of his footsteps.

He was just a thing. Just What-Makes-Me-In-Control.

And Lawrence will never be that again.

That's why when he unlocks Adam's door again, with keys that rattle in the rhythm of his shaking hands, when he opens it and sees Adam snapping out of the light sleep he'd drifted into, the knife in his hand would reflect light from the window if it hadn't been so dark outside, if the darkness hadn't closed around him, if he hadn't been hunted back into the corner and had no way out.

Fortunately, that's when he felt nothing again.

Adam's eyes widen when he sees the knife shaking in Lawrence hand, the chains around his wrists rattle when he freezes up.

Then it all seeps out of Lawrence again. Like when you let the air out of a balloon.

Who the hell is he trying to fool?

Himself? Isn't he passed that by now? Hasn't he been staring into the ugliness of his own soul for years now?

The knife falls out of his hand and makes a tinkling sound as it hits the ground. Then Lawrence looks up at Adam, who's still looking at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"I… I'm sorry." Lawrence stutters. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Than he looks down at the knife again and says – more to himself than to Adam – "I'm not like this…"

Why does he tell him that? Why does he tell either himself or Adam?

Lawrence bends down and picks the knife up. Closes the door and walks up to Adam, who hasn't moved since that door opened, hasn't even blinked.

"You… You know," Lawrence says, almost childlike, fingers on the tip of the knife. "You know… I'm not like this. Right?"

He keeps looking down at the knife, and he gets annoyed when Adam doesn't answer. When he looks up, he sees that Adam wouldn't even be able to answer if he tried, his whole body's still so tensed up it would probably crack in the middle if you touched it, like frozen paper. And Adam doesn't even seem to get that he's supposed to talk.

"Answer," Lawrence says harshly.

Adam's gaze flickers down, the first movement he's made since Lawrence entered the room, and then looks up. He's starting to relax, he even dares to shake his head a little.

"No," he says in a thin voice. "Of course I don't. How the hell would I know that?"

"I…"

Lawrence looks down on the knife, the drop of blood that seeps out when he presses it against his thumb.

He feels exposed. He feels like an anorexic teenage girl, small and thin and pale, standing naked in front of Adam's terrified eyes twice as terrified as him, frail and cold, with ribs shining through his skin.

He feels like there's not one part of him that Adam can't see. So to him, the mere idea of Adam not getting that he's not like this is completely unthinkable.

And even with that, he really doesn't get why it's so important to him that Adam really sees all of this.

Sees that the only reason Lawrence is like this is that he doesn't want to be like Him.

But Lawrence still doesn't tell Adam. About Him, about what he's doing, about how there's been so many others, and none of them has been like him. He just says it again, for no reason at all.

"I'm not like this."

"Then why the fuck are you doing it?" Adam sputters out and closes his eyes briefly, like Lawrence's stupidity is just exhausting. "How the hell do you expect me to know that you're not like this when this is what you're doing? Haven't you seen 'Batman Begins?'"

Lawrence shakes his head.

"No, I never saw that."

Pause.

"Was it good?"

"Yeah, it was good," Adam says and nods. "A little overrated, but good."

Lawrence nods. Then they're quiet again.

"Either way, I really think you are this way, or you wouldn't do it," Adam finishes off with new courage. "But could you please just leave me alone now?"

Lawrence shakes his head.

He really does feel nothing.

"Adam," he says and looks up again. "I came here to kill you, and I obviously can't do that. But I still can't leave you without… Doing something."

When he sees the look on Adam's face, that look of utter hopelessness, faith that he could get out of this if he tried and bitterness that he doesn't dare to try at all, Lawrence almost wishes that he hadn't said it.

But the lust still rises in him like a dark fire.

"Lawrence…" Adam begins, freezes up again. "Please…"

"Don't," Lawrence says, almost remorsefully, and walks up to Adam's bed. Without dropping the knife. "Don't say anything."

Adam looks at him for a few seconds. Then he closes his eyes again and sighs, a sigh with the same surrendering as his expression, opens his eyes to look at the knife in Lawrence's hand. And nods, a very small nod.

But Lawrence can't do it straight away. There's a question in his head that's meant for Adam, it's been gnawing in the back of his head ever since he first saw him sleeping in the bar, because Lawrence has to know why he feels connected to him, why he's the only one this far that's not just a thing, but a person. Living, breathing. Hurting.

Lawrence has to ask. Because the sadness over Adam's feature is something he's seen in himself.

"Adam," Lawrence exhales when he sits down on Adam's bed, already has to touch him. "Have you lost someone?"

He's very cautious about subtly lifting the knife so Adam can see it, rests it against his leg while he's stroking Adam's cheek. Adam's gaze flutters down on it, but back up again almost straight away, like he wants to focus on the upsides of this.

He knows he has to answer. So he nods, once again, it's almost invisible, and Lawrence nods, too.

Adam's lost someone. That explains a lot.

Then it'd be weird if he didn't feel connected to him.

But when he knows this, for sure now, what he planned to do instead of killing him is pretty hard, too.

Lawrence sighs, it seems to come from deep inside his heart.

He wishes Adam was just a thing. Not a person. Especially not a person who's lost someone.

"I can't do it," he says with another - as deep or even deeper – sigh following that last one.

"What ?" Adam asks, but while he does, he actually already realizes what Lawrence means.

"Rape you."

They're quiet for what seems to be an eternity, look at eachother.

The fear in Adam's eyes fades down a bit, but it's still there, and both Adam and Lawrence know that it'll always stay there no matter what. And for a part, that's Lawrence's fault. But on the other hand, Adam has always been afraid, he's been afraid all his life, Lawrence just made him feel it.

Adam isn't sure if he's supposed to be thankful for that.

"Then don't," Adam says simply, he looks Lawrence in the eye with a stubbornness that's actually convincing, he wants to scream at him that he should stop nagging and whining about stuff that he can or can't and just follow his heart. Do the things he can. But he doesn't dare.

Lawrence just nods and puts the knife away. His fingers automatically find Adam's hair again. Softly he starts running his fingers through the black strands.

Adam doesn't know what to feel anymore. He wants to tell Lawrence not to do it, but he still wants him to do it. It would just feel good to reject him. Gain some control.

But it doesn't really matter. He wouldn't dare to resist anyway. So why would he even think about trying?

Lawrence seems so completely locked out of reality. He's sunk away into his own dream world, and if Adam would dare to look at him, he would probably thing he looked… Almost innocent.

_Yeah, because he really does seem to have a deep innocent side, _a little sarcastic voice in Adam's head adds. _What do you think he's doing to you in his head, Adam?_

It's right. A lot of Lawrence' fantasies contain nothing but dark, sadistic sex, but not this one. Not the one he is in now.

He looks down on Adam, and even though he's more attracted to him than he's been to any of his other ones, he can't think about sex.

Adam isn't an object. He's his own. Despite what Lawrence forces him to say.

He belongs to himself and the person who puts that light blue shadow over his face, that constant sorrow that's like a link between them.

Lawrence knows. He knows what it's like to have a grief so big and so old, so deeply rooted within that it's become a part of him, one of those things you feel but don't register, like a clock ticking on the wall. He knows.

And he knows why Adam even agreed to saying that he was Lawrence's. Even though he must've known it wasn't true. He knows what you're willing to do to make the light blue shadow go away.

He knows how you can walk through fire and water and not even have a goal, neglecting himself for years just because it's himself he's trying to find, searching for himself in other people and just finding something you find oddly unsatisfying.

Lawrence used to think that when he was with Him, too. He doesn't remember much of those years, he's spent a lot of time suppressing every trace of it even though he'll never be able to do that, life isn't that kind.

And one of the things he's absolutely sure he'll never be able to forget is that thought.

_Have I done enough soon? _

That's what he remembers. His body, thin and frail and not even finished, not even grown, pressed so hard into the mattress he could barely breath at all. A position when he had every single right to struggle, scream, put himself first for once. But still with only that thought in his head.

_Have I done enough? Will you love me soon? _

And now that he actually take the time to look at it, he sees that very thought in Adam's face, too.

"Adam?"

Adam doesn't answer.

"Adam, who have you lost?"

He can't believe he's asking this. Hell, he can't even believe that he pays this much attention to Adam, but now that he does, he might as well go for the showdown.

He's already in too deep.

Adam doesn't answer right away now, either. He just stares at the wall in front of him, and Lawrence takes his fingers out of his hair, looks down on him. Waiting.

"Johnny."

It's barely above a whisper.

"Johnny's your boyfriend?"

Adam barely seems to hear him. When he answers, it's like he's under hypnosis.

"He was more. He was…"

Adam stops right there. He doesn't even bother to explain, why would he explain?

It's true that Johnny was more than his boyfriend, but what the hell was he then? And even if he knew, how would he ever be able to explain?

How do you explain what Johnny did to him, how do you put a definition to someone who came along with light gleaming from his fingertips after you'd spent your life wandering through the darkness?

And more than anything, how can you name someone when you don't even know if the light from the fingertips make up for what came next, for the darkness that crashed down like a tidal wave, filled his lunges and devoured him inside out? What do you call someone like that?

"Would you stroke my hair again?"

He feels Lawrence stiffening, probably from surprise. For a brief second, Adam thinks he's going to bring that damn knife out again, but then he feels the fingertips in his hair again, stroking through his bangs, loving every strand, and he closes his eyes.

It can't be normal to feel safe at a time like this.

**Aw… I just love it when Adam's had his heart broke! ;) Anyway, please review! We're two waiting for it now, so it's even more appreciated when you do! **


	7. Nothing Ever Changes

**A/N: Yay! Me and my partner in crime are now back in action! And I might as well answer the question on everyone's perverted lips: NO, there's no smut in this chapter. Or, that sort of depends on how sick-minded you are, but if it's your thing: Oh yes, there will be blood. XD **

**6: Nothing Ever Changes**

"You know, Adam?" Lawrence suddenly says.

Adam looks at him with big, wondering eyes. Lawrence doesn't look back.

He's not really with Adam right now, he's somewhere else. That's the only reason he can even say this.

"You're not the only one who suffered…"

Then, his gaze falls to the ground, trying to find words to explain, but it's hard. He can't explain it's as simple as that, can't make the word "suffer" fill the guilt, the pain, the emptiness, so after a few seconds, he just stops trying. He feels Adam's eyes burning on his skin when they keep looking at him, but he refuses to look back, his hands stroke Adam's hair more nervously.

"So what happened?" Adam suddenly asks.

It almost hurts not to be able to tell. But he can't.

"Nothing. Or, I… I can't explain."

"You can tell me," Adam tries, but it's pointless.

He can't do this. Lawrence knows that if Adam keeps asking, he'll eventually tell him, because deep down inside, he wants to, the emptiness is spreading and it eats him alive, but he knows that he can't.

He can't show Adam his weaknesses, because it'll make him vulnerable, it's as simple as that. And he has to stay in control, that's why he does all of this.

If he tells Adam, Adam will get more power over him than Lawrence ever had over any of his victims. And that can't happen.

If he tells, he'll be nothing more than a little insect that Adam can kill with the palm of his hand. He'll grow smaller and smaller, and Adam will grow bigger, like a giant, his enormous hand will ball to a fist, he'll break the walls to his cell and walk away.

That's why Lawrence stands up and walks out the door, locks it behind him and still feels Adam's eyes through the steel when he walks away.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Lawrence still remembers it. Clearly.

It's so sick and immoral and wrong, but he remembers that day clearer than he remembers any of the other days he's spent down here.

He remembers the face when the knife pierced through the skin, the feeling of a life leaving the body beneath him, the horror that washed over the lust like cold water when he realized what he'd done.

He hadn't killed him. It wasn't on purpose. He'd cut his guys before, and it had never ended that way. It was just an unfortunate coincidence, and it wasn't his fault.

It wasn't his fault.

Lawrence curses softly when he's pacing around outside Adam's door, feels his rage growing, a rage that would probably go away if he'd just walked into someone else's room, since he hasn't seen any of the others since he took Adam here, but for some reason, he doesn't do it.

And he still has the knife in his hand.

_And why is that, Lawrence? Why haven't you put the knife away? _

He won't do it. He hasn't killed before, and he never will. Ever.

_But you want to do it, don't you, Lawrence? Don't you want to kill him right now?_

No. Never. Never again.

_But you want to, I know you do. Don't you? Don't you want to kill him right now, don't you want to go in there and end it right now just to take away that feeling you haven't gotten rid off since you took him here, don't you want to do what you walked in there to do in the first place? _

_Don't you want to kill him right now just because he's taken away your power? _

Yes. He does, he does.

And even that gives him a feeling of weakness.

He doesn't even really want to kill him. He really wants Adam to disappear.

Adam doesn't even have to do anything. Just the fact that he's there, that he exists makes Lawrence feel like the most vulnerable person in the world, he feels a heart he'd repressed the memory of beating in Adam's hand.

But if Lawrence kills him, he'll still feel weak, so he should be erased completely. Not only as much from this planet as from Lawrence's mind.

_Eventually, you'll forget about him and everything will be just like before again._

Lawrence growled something. The blade cold on his skin.

_No! We know that doesn't work! If I kill him, I will never ever forget about him again, just like with… That other guy._

_Why won't you say his name?_

_I… I don't… I don't remember his name._

_Yes, you do! If there is one name you will never forget, it's that one! And you will never forget Adam's, but he won't have power of you anymore. Isn't that what you want? _

Lawrence looks at the knife, imagines it sinking into Adam's gut, or maybe he could slit his throat, that would be even faster, he didn't deserve to suffer…

It's not Adam he's mad at. It's Him.

But for some reason, he still slowly walks to the door and takes his keys out.

Adam wearily looks up when Lawrence enters the room. He doesn't even look surprised, even though he has every reason to, or at least look scared. Because Lawrence knows that he can see the knife in his hand, even though no light reflects on it.

Knives can't reflect light when you live in eternal darkness.

Lawrence is scared, though. He's watching himself, too, and he's senselessly scared, because _he_ sees the knife in his hand, he sees something in his eyes he never saw with the other one.

The other one was an accident. And in his own eyes, he'd seen nothing but black lust, hollow desire, and all in all, nothing he hadn't seen there before.

He sees something new in his eyes this time. And it's lust. Still lust. But a different kind.

It's lust for blood. He wants to do this.

Adam doesn't seem surprised at all. He just looks at Lawrence, at the knife, and he chuckles, like Lawrence's said something funny, but he didn't pay much attention.

Like he just wants him to finish talking so he can go home.

To Johnny. Whoever that is.

"Changed your mind?" Adam says halfheartedly.

Lawrence can't answer. He doesn't feel entitled.

"Whatever," Adam says and shrugs. The shackles rattle. "Kill me. Just do it."

Lawrence walks up to the bed. He feels like he's there, every blood cell have gotten bigger and everything feels, he feels every grain of dust on the ground, the still air against his skin, and then Adam's hatred, streaming from his body.

"I will."

The letters feel wrong. Adam looks up at him. He smiles.

"I don't care," Adam says in a light little voice. He means every word. "I don't. I don't have anything to live for out there, and I sure as hell don't have anything keeping me here, because you're not that good at fucking, I'm sorry. So just do it. Bring it on."

"Adam, shut up," and Adam chuckles again.

Lawrence has never felt less important in his life. The clutch on the knife gets harder.

He's in control. He's always in control. Because he's got a dungeon full of people who he can kill, he has the power to step inside the room and suck the life out of them. Like a vampire.

He has that power. And Adam doesn't even have to get out of his shackles to take that power away.

"Or what?" Adam bites back. "You're going to kill me? Because I thought that's what you came in here for anyway."

Everything feels. Everything.

"Or are you just scared you're going to change your mind?" Adam says, his eyes glitter exultingly from below, and Lawrence lifts the knife and stabs him, the knife buries right where his shoulder ends and his neck begins, the blood makes his hand slippery and wrong, just wrong, it's soaked up by the mattress.

Yes. His hand is wrong. It doesn't belong to him anymore.

And if Lawrence could make that feeling go away, if he could undo what he did or just forget the spark that leaves Adam's eyes, the gaping wound that's splitting on his body and on Lawrence's heart, he would chop off his hand right now.

Adam looks at the blood that keeps flowing and flowing for a long time until he slowly lifts up his head and looks at Lawrence in disbelief.

It feels even more wrong when Lawrence sees a glaze in Adam's eyes that ask him.

_Why?_

Doesn't understand. Lawrence doesn't understand, either.

He would undo all of this in just a second if he could. But unfortunately, he can't, so he just keeps staring at Adam, doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what to say.

"I… " Adam says on the same tone he had told Lawrence that he trusted him on that first night. Only this time, he's not drunk, not even hung over. It's something much worse.

Adam's eyes already start to slide shut when Lawrence finally realizes that he has to do something. His mind leaves his body, instincts take over and shaking hands press the blanket against Adam's wound.

It gets soaked way too quickly.

"Adam, stay awake! Don't you dare to get unconscious, you hear me? You can't do that to me!"

He can almost hear Adam thinking _you did this to me, you bastard,_ and he feels tears welling up. But he will save him, he knows that he didn't hit an artery_. _

_The human body contains more blood than you could imagine._

He heard that sometime during med school.

And Adam is young. His body can handle this.

It had to.

Adam couldn't die. He couldn't.

Life couldn't give Lawrence something like this, couldn't show him someone like Adam without letting him stay.

Couldn't give him a way to end his bitterness and then take it from him.

**Damn, Lawrence is such an idiot… But just like with Adam, I guess that's what makes him cute. Either way, be sure to leave your cute reviews! **


	8. Maybe Death Is Better

**A/N: LOL! Damn, I'm evil… Ending with a cliffhanger like that and not updating in forever! Well, to hell with it, I know you love me. ;) But if it helps, I've got a little gift for you in this chapter: We finally find out what's happened to Johnny! **

**7: Maybe Death Is Better**

Lawrence used to be a doctor. Very far off, in a completely different life, when having someone else's blood on his hands didn't bother him, he used to be a doctor.

He doesn't remember it. The life he used to live is so different from the one he lives now, it's hard to make any recollection.

But now, he has someone else's blood on his hands, and he finds himself acting like a doctor again, for the first time in his life. In this life.

Adam's lying on his desk instead of his operating table, his blood splashes softly onto folders and pictures instead of sterile bed sheets, and Lawrence's hands are not covered with thin latex but with his own desperation.

Adam's bleeding. And it's not nearly as arousing as it should be.

Lawrence grasps for things on his shelves. He just finds things he doesn't need, scalpels and clams and cotton balls and the insignificance of his life and nothing is the way he wants it, nothing is the way it should be.

_He can't die here. _

_He can't be like the other one. _

But Lawrence does find needle and thread, when it's way too late and the color is draining from Adam's lips and his head has tipped to the side, but once he's found it, it's not too hard. Just put the needle to the skin, tighten the thread.

Check on him afterwards so there'll develop no signs of infection. And don't enter the OR with your gloves on.

When Adam's wound has closed up, Lawrence still doesn't put him back in his cell. He just stays on his office chair, sees the blood on his papers and the needle in his hand, sees his hands on Adam's thigh and on his shoulders and sees that they're shaking.

And then he feels that he was scared.

He's not scared now, but he feels the aftershock of his fear leaving his body way too slowly, like a guitar string vibrating. A footprint fading away from the floor.

Lawrence isn't scared now. But now he feels lonely, he feels cold, and he doesn't want to clutch to Adam like he'll never let him go, but he has to do it anyway. And Adam's body is limp in his arms, he's cold and small and distant in a way, but he's alive. Lawrence knows. He's a doctor right now.

And he's nothing like Him.

He never stayed like this, he could hit and kick and cut sometimes, but he never stayed. Never cared. Lawrence got to stay in his room and fidget with his new bruises, tie his pillowcase around the wounds on his arms.

And even though Lawrence hates himself for staying with Adam, that insight fills him with a wonderful relief.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Adam doesn't remember what's happened when he opens his eyes and finds his stomach aching so much that he can't even move and Lawrence holding his hand, it almost disappears between his own warm, soft ones.

_Doctor hands._

For some reason, that's Adam immediate association.

Lawrence stares down at the ground, but looks up when he feels the little hand shaking.

"Don't move."

Adam stops shaking right away, and Lawrence almost starts crying.

He really is that scared of him.

"It's okay. It's alright, Adam, you're going to be okay. I promise"

Adam takes a deep breath and nods slowly. It takes a while for everything to stop spinning around, but when it does, he manages to register that he's never been in this room before.

He's lying on a desk, papers and pens have fallen to the ground and they're covered in blood. On the desk, there are scalpels and needle and thread, and they're covered in blood, too.

_My blood. _

That's another association. But it doesn't come straight away.

He doesn't remember Lawrence stabbing him. And he thinks too much for him to ever get that into his mind.

Adam's pale face becomes even paler.

"What happened to me?" he asks with a shaky voice, almost so silently that Lawrence doesn't understand what he asks.

Lawrence opens his mouth and closes it again when he realizes that he doesn't know what to say. If Adam's forgotten it all, he doesn't want to tell him. But for some reason, he still feels his lips parting again, words coming up, and his whole world tumbling down with them.

"I stabbed you in the neck."

Lawrence wouldn't even be sure that he said it out loud if it weren't for the look on Adam's face.

It takes a few seconds for the word to land in them. Like smoke settling after the guns on the battlefield have quieted down. Adam just stares at Lawrence, the surprise tries to overlap his confusion, but doesn't quite succeed. And Lawrence looks back, calmly, finds that his hand is still on Adam's and lets go, hopes Adam didn't notice, that his feelings, just like Lawrence's, are too big not to be felt and too painful to even fit into a human body at the same time, because in that case, Adam wouldn't notice a hand on his own.

And Lawrence really hopes that he didn't. Because he's killed, that one time, and he's turning more and more into Him by the second, but he will never be so pitiful, so helpless that he falls in love with a prisoner. Never.

But that's not enough to take away everything that Adam can do wrong. Because after another few seconds, he opens his mouth and says, like it causes him a great deal of pain:

"Did you want to kill me?"

Lawrence nods slowly, even before he's had a chance to think. A chance to realize that it's not like that at all.

"I did when I stabbed you. But I didn't let you die, did I?"

"No," Adam answers, and he cringes in pain when his stiff fingers find the compress Lawrence put over his stitches.

Pause.

"I'm thirsty," Adam says, hoarsely, and his fingers go to Lawrence's arm.

Lawrence nods curtly and stands up, walks over to the sink he has in his office, pours some water into a glass.

He doesn't feel anything again. And he's thankful, of course, but in the meantime, he knows he won't be able to keep it up. Unfortunately.

It's a fact. He's going to stay with Adam until he falls asleep again, and then he's going to carry him back to his cell. It's like he's waited all his life for someone with that thin shadow over his eyes just to have someone to recognize himself with, not feel like a freak for once. And now that he's found Adam, he takes away all his power, sucks it out of him without meaning to at all. And Lawrence just accepts it.

Hell, he almost _embraces _it. Or why else would he stitch Adam up when he's stabbed him, why would he give him water when he's thirsty?

Lawrence walks back to Adam and tips the glass against his lips. Adam gets a new light in his eyes, lifts his head a little and grabs Lawrence's wrist to press the glass closer.

Lawrence has to smile. That annoys him even more.

When he takes the glass away, Adam puts his head back down. Lawrence sits down. He knows Adam's about to say something, so he won't say anything himself. And even if he wanted to, he wouldn't dare. Thank God for that.

"I saw Johnny," Adam finally says, in such a thin voice, shy little eyes look up at Lawrence.

Lawrence leans back in his chair.

"What happened with Johnny, Adam," he says, dejectedly.

It sounds more like a statement than a question. Because Lawrence has now given up, and that's nothing that even has to be questioned.

Adam just lies there for a few seconds. Lawrence almost wonders if he even heard him when he starts talking.

"I… Thought there was something wrong with me," Adam says.

His words sound new. Like they're squinting against the light, shivering in the cold.

Like he hasn't said them to anyone before.

"I seriously grew up… Completely convinced that there was something wrong with me. Because everyone else seemed to look like they belonged there. And I never did. I couldn't even act like I did."

Lawrence looks at Adam, tries to connect, but Adam's gaze is on the ceiling above him.

He's somewhere else.

"I wasn't… Bullied or something," Adam goes on, with a thin kind of voice. "I just walked between home and school, I went out drinking with my friends and came home and threw up on the carpet, but I didn't get why I was doing it. I didn't get what the hell I was doing there."

Lawrence is glad Adam doesn't look at him.

He doesn't want him to see his eyes welling up.

"I remember…" Adam goes on, and now a dry chuckle actually finds a way into those new words, "when I was… Twelve. Or thirteen. No, I was twelve. There was this hole in the wall between the girls' and the guys' locker room. In school, you know. Someone must've dug it up with a pocketknife. The other guys were… Damn, they were so busy staring through there that they didn't actually get changed until our gym teacher came in and yelled at us. They worked that hard… Just to see some girls naked."

Pause.

"I didn't get why," Adam goes on. "I didn't get why they were doing that. I tried to do it, I really tried to see the excitement in it, but I didn't. I didn't get what the deal was. They were just girls. Just… Boobs, you know?"

Yeah. Lawrence knows. He knows so well.

"I didn't get what I was doing there," Adam continues, and his voice is a little softer now, weaker. "In that damn suburban neighborhood with flowerbeds and red houses and white doorposts and husbands who came home with those fucking little briefcases under their arms… I didn't belong there. I wasn't there. So I went out looking for myself. In the city, the dark corners. I felt more at home there than I ever did with my family."

Pause. A small smile. A sad one.

"And then I found Johnny," Adam says, and he says it in that tone that makes Lawrence understand that it's a holy name, that one that gives you the energy to get up in the mornings. "When I was eighteen. He was… Standing by a street corner with all these other male hookers. He wore this worn-down leather jacket, and… He tried to get a cigarette from one of them."

Lawrence tries to keep not feeling nothing. But it's hard.

"And suddenly…" Adam exhales, his gaze is beyond, "I didn't need myself anymore."

Lawrence nods. Even though he knows Adam isn't looking at him.

And even if he did, he wouldn't see him.

"He was a hooker, too?"

"Yeah, he was," Adam says and folds an arm under his head. "But he didn't have to be. Not after I saw him. I… Took him home. Straight away. He thought I was just going to fuck him, and… I did, of course, but…"

"_This is your place?" Johnny said, cocked a brow and looked around. _

_There was something despiteful in his voice, and Adam understood him. _

_He'd talked about his home that way all his life. But it still felt like a completely new place when he saw Johnny in there, there was dark light radiating from his body. _

"_Yeah."_

_Johnny spun around, scanning over every inch of the kitchen and despising it, before he turned to Adam again. _

"_It's depressing."_

_Adam chuckles. _

"_Newsflash."_

"But then I said he could stay," Adam goes on. "He looked at me like I was insane. I said he had to stay, I'd pay him by the hour if I had to, my parents had the money. He probably thought I was drunk or high or whatever, but at least he stayed, hell, he even did it for free after a while…"

There is something incredibly bitter at the end of the sentence.

"_So…" Johnny said with a sleepy smile, looked down on Adam where he was lying huddled up at his chest. "What are we going to do today, Adam?" _

_Adam couldn't even answer straight away. His eyes got lost in Johnny's, the dark forest in them, old trees whispering of old misery, and he realized that he was gazing in them like he was looking at a god. _

_He'd sworn to himself that he'd never look at anyone that way. But when he did it with Johnny, it was suddenly okay._

"_What do you say we stay in and make out all day?" he murmured, his hand sneaked up on Johnny's chest, and Johnny grinned sleepily, his lips sunk into Adam's and the forest in his eyes devoured them both. _

_It was so hard to think about the bad things then. _

"He stayed for a long time," Adam says softly. "My parents hated it, but no way I'd give him up. I needed him. We could stay up all night, with me sitting on my pillow and him at the foot of the bed, talking about our dreams and the future and stuff… You know, all those things the parents would never understand. He understood. I thought he did."

"_I've been thinking about death sometimes," Johnny said, fingering on the ring in his earlobe. _

"_Mm," Adam mumbled and nodded in recognition. _

"_I think it's like… New York," Johnny said thoughtfully, his eyes are on the ceiling. "You know, these cars rushing by and no one stopping before they hit something. Until you go up the Empire State Building and watch it all from the outside."_

"_Yeah, that makes sense," Adam said and took a drag from his cigarette. "I don't think I'll die, though. I'll stay young and hot forever. As long as you don't go anywhere."_

_Johnny grinned from the other side of the smoke from Adam's cigarette. _

"_Well, I'm just going to have to stay then, aren't I," he said playfully, and heaved himself onto his hands and knees, started crawling towards Adam. _

_Adam dropped the cigarette in his ashtray. He was so focused on Johnny's body on top of his that he didn't even hear the solemn undertone in his voice._

It hurts so much. It hurts. 

"He… I'd found myself," Adam says, it feels like there are a few words falling out of his sentences. "In him. And I thought he felt the same about me."

Pause.

"But then I started noticing things," Adam says, and now, his letters suddenly seem sharper, darker. "Small things. Like… He could sit and stare out the window when I entered the room. Like he didn't get what he was doing in here with me. And when I asked him what he was doing, he just snapped out of it and looked caught. He was always somewhere else, and I finally felt like I stayed put. Not exactly the most complemented couple in the world, huh?"

Adam does look angry now. Lawrence almost gets scared.

"It was like _he _was trying to find himself," Adam says, so bitter now, it doesn't fit him at all. "I wasn't enough to make him find himself, apparently. I was… Trying to love a wild thing, or whatever the fuck you call it. He walked around at home like he was in a cage, and I couldn't help him, because he wouldn't admit that something was wrong, and then…"

Pause. Now it's even more painful.

"Then I came home and… Found that note."

Lawrence nods. He doesn't have to say anything else.

"How long were you together?"

"Six years," Adam says darkly. "We had our own apartment when he took off, so it couldn't have been my parents. He was just a 'wild thing,' and I wasn't wild enough. He was such a free _fucking _spirit, and I was just weighing him down."

Lawrence nods again. They're quiet for almost a minute.

It's always impossible to think of what to say after something like this.

**Aw, I love it when Adam's all difficult and wounded so Lawrence can fix him! XD And I know you do, too, so… Review! **


	9. Love Is A Dangerous Thing

**A/N: WHOO, the miracle team is back! I understand that Adam did some spilling of beans in the last chapter, and since we're drama queens, we wouldn't want to keep this chapter any lighter… Enjoy!**

**8: Love Is A Dangerous Thing**

So they just don't say anything.

The silence doesn't start to feel uncomfortable as the minutes are ticking by, it feels like a sort of calmness settles over Adam and he closes his eyes, like he feels safe when Lawrence is holding his hand.

Lawrence isn't looking at Adam anymore, it almost seems like he's forgotten he's there at all. He's staring at the wall and thinking about his own life, before he became the… Hunter he is now. He was someone else back then. But he forgot who that was long ago.

Maybe it's better that way.

If it was a good life, he doesn't want to remember it.

Lawrence turns to Adam again and sees that he's fallen asleep, for a second falls so senselessly in love that it's almost overwhelming, stares at him for a few minutes and than picks him up, slowly and carefully.

He drags him all the way back to his room and lays him down on the bed. Adam moans softly in his sleep, he rolls up into a ball and grasps blindly for the blanket to wrap around him.

Something gets stirred up in Lawrence. Maybe it's the intimacy, the closeness, the feeling that Adam is here because he wants to, not because he has to. Maybe.

Maybe it's the little boy inside him who just wants to be loved. But knows somehow, just from the pressure inside him and the weight on top of him, that it can never happen.

Either way, he bends down and shakes Adam's shoulder, almost violently, until he flutters his eyes open and blinks stupidly against the light.

"What are you doing?"

"Come on," Lawrence says and straightens up. "I'm going to show you something."

"What?"

"Come on."

And from no efforts of his own, Lawrence feels his emotions fading out again when he unlocks the door and starts walking down the hallway. Adam's footsteps follow him, but he can almost hear the hesitation just in the way he puts his feet down.

There's no point in feeling right now.

Why would he feel? Why would he even reflect over something so obvious?

Adam was never meant to be caged. Lawrence was never meant to own him. And even if he were, he wouldn't be able to. Adam's too beautiful, his independence rises to high, it presses against the dirty ceiling and blows it apart.

How could Lawrence ever own him? How could he ever cage a bird with feathers so beautiful, so wide and dazzling, how could he ever live with himself if he'd hide such beauty from the world?

So when they reach the only exit of Lawrence's basement, the door Lawrence carried Adam through for what feels like an eternity ago, Lawrence unlocks it unceremoniously, opens it, looks firmly at the ground because he doesn't want to see Adam's face when he shows him.

There's freedom out there. Lawrence has missed it for so long.

Adam doesn't say anything for a long time, even though Lawrence knows that he gets what's expected of him. When he's felt Adam's accusing eyes on his forehead for almost a whole minute, he has to look up.

"Get out."

Adam just looks at him. His eyes are wide and brows furrowed.

"What the hell are you doing?" he hisses finally, and Lawrence rolls his eyes.

"Just go, okay? before I change my mind!" Lawrence bites back and looks at Adam almost angrily.

Adam doesn't move though. He looks outside to the sunlight, the green trees.

There's freedom out there. He knows. He's seen it.

But he never felt free, did he? He was able to do whatever he wanted, but did he? Did he ever?

He looks behind him at the dark hallway with the thick wooden doors hiding all these man behind them. They would give the world to be Adam right now, and they would all walk out of here and run for their lives if they only could.

Adam wants to. He wants to _want _to. And he does take one step towards the sunlight, God, he's forgotten what it looks like…

But he can't. He knows he can't.

Something holds him back. Like that part of himself that he found when he met Johnny has come back, or something completely different that died a long time ago can only stay alive here, not outside. Not alone.

It hurts in every fiber of his being. But Adam turns to Lawrence with hatred in his eyes for what he has to say.

"I'm staying."

With gruff certainty in his voice. Then he turns around and walks through the hallway back to his room with such fury that you can hear it in every step.

Lawrence is so shocked that he can't even move until Adam enters the door to his room. But when he can, he runs after him and slams the door open, it echoes through the corridor.

"Adam! For fuck's sake, you can't stay!" he growls and takes two big leaps towards Adam.

Adam's jaw is clenched, his hands open and close irregularly, and his anger towards himself and to Lawrence is like shock waves from his body.

He's never going to leave.

"I'm not fucking leaving," Adam spits out, like it causes him great effort. "I _can't _fucking leave, don't you get that?! Don't you think I would if I could?"

Lawrence slams the door shut behind him.

"Adam! Stop being a fucking moron! Go while you still can!"

"I _can't, _you fucking idiot!" Adam roars, with a voice bigger than Lawrence thought him capable of. "I'm staying here, okay? I'm not leaving you, and that's not because I don't want to, but because I _can't, _so get fucking _used _to me, because I'm not going anywhere!"

Lawrence feels the keys he hasn't let go of bore into his palm, the image of Adam blurs when his eyes turn into slits.

He wants Adam to stay. Even without all this, the dependence and the part of his control that Adam's taken away, there's none of his prisoners he's been as attracted to as Adam, and without all that, he'd still want him here, just for his grey eyes. The soft, dark hair.

But those are the very reasons Adam can't stay. Because Lawrence cares about him, he's broken the first promise he made to himself when he started doing this and if Adam leaves, he's going to let all the others go because nothing will be the same anymore. And Adam can't stay, because if he does, he'll get hurt. Get hurt in the same way as… As that other guy.

That wouldn't have bothered him. But this is Adam, and Lawrence wouldn't be able to live with himself if he knew he'd hurt him. It'd be easier if he'd still been dead inside, but he can't even have that anymore.

"Adam, for _fuck's _sake!" Lawrence hisses, the saliva dances around his mouth. "What is it that you don't get? Do I have to stab you in the neck again for you to get what kind of _fucking _person I am?!"

Adam keeps glaring at him. He's calmed down a little bit, but he's serious in a way Lawrence has never seen him. It's only been either terrified or half-dead.

"You stitched me up again, didn't you?" Adam says quietly and unclenches his fists. "You wouldn't have done that if you're as horrible as you make yourself out to be."

"Oh, and you'd know?!" Lawrence yells, his nerves are vibrating furiously, violin strings of anger. "You've been here for _two days, _you goddamn moron! You want me to take you on a tour to the other cells? You want to talk to the ones that've been here for half a fucking year about what a nice guy I am?"

"Yeah, why don't you do that?" Adam hisses, angry again. "Why don't you take me around to the others so I can ask them if any of them are dead, or dismembered, or blind, or handicapped, because you haven't done that to any of them, have you?"

Lawrence doesn't manage to answer before he goes on. And he's sort of happy about that.

He'd rather have Adam thinking that he's just a rapist, than a rapist and a murderer.

"No, that's what I thought," Adam goes on, coldly and sweetly at the same time. "You've just fucked them. You've just fucked some guys who you haven't let out of their chains since you got them here, and trust me: That is _far _from the worst thing that could've happened to them when they were here."

Those eyes. The brown ones. The ones that looked so much like Adam's. Somehow.

Even though Adam's eyes are alive. Vibrant, furious.

Even though his are buried. Even though Lawrence remembers their last dead look at the sky before he shoveled the dirt over them.

He doesn't even remember his name.

"Adam."

It sounds like his voice has never been used.

"If you knew the worst thing I'd done to these guys…"

Those eyes. Those eyes.

"You'd run for the fucking hell of it."

Then, Lawrence turns around and leaves. And he doesn't close the door behind him.

**Hehe… I have a feeling Lawrence will do some bean-spilling in the next chapter, too… But first I'll have to consult with my partner in crime. Either way, review and we'll love you forever! :) **


	10. If You're A Killer, Then Kill Me

**A/N: Yay, the wonderwomen are back! XD And we have a brand new, angsty chapter, and we will be very happy if you review and tell us how much you hate us for not letting these two morons to be happy and in love! We looove that… Either way, read on! **

**9: If You're A Killer, Then Kill Me**

Adam seems to be speechless after those words, because it's not until he's already walked through half of the hallway until Lawrence hears Adam call after him.

"Lawrence, come on! Come back here!"

Lawrence doesn't answer. Keeps walking without looking back.

He hears the creaking of a door opening and than the loud sound of it being slammed shut. Then Adam's feet against the floor.

Adam walks quickly down the hallway, almost hoping that the sound of his feet will sound intimidating enough for Lawrence to slow down. But even though he's basically running down the hallway, Adam manages to catch the sound of chains rattling behind the closed doors when he passes them, someone behind each of them is terrified, hovers against the wall, dreading that Lawrence will enter their room any moment now.

Lawrence is one of two people that have ever loved Adam. And they're afraid of him.

"It's cool!" Adam says firmly, to everyone hovering behind those doors, everyone Lawrence has managed to scare with his act, astonished that these words are coming out his mouth. He knows more than he thought he did. "He won't hurt you anymore, I'll make sure of that."

He keeps walking, all the way to Lawrence's office and opens the door with as much noise he could possibly make just to make him startle. He doesn't wait for Lawrence to look up.

"Listen!" he says and points a menacing finger against Lawrence. "You just need to show them you're not a bad person, just like you showed me! Then you can let them go! You don't want them here, I know that!"

Lawrence just shakes his head, he doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to make Adam understand. His self-loathing makes him so damn stupid.

"Adam, don't you understand? You're different!"

"What makes me different from them?" Adam bites back before Lawrence even manages to close his mouth. It seemed like his words had taken over, he had no control over them anymore, didn't think, it just came out. "I'm one of them, you locked me up, you raped me! You almost _killed_ me, damn it, would you tell me the differen…"

That's where Lawrence cuts him off.

"I'm in love with you, Adam"

Silence fell upon them. Dead silence.

Adam's eyes are wide. Lawrence barely sees it. His soul isn't even still in his body, he watches himself from the outside. Hears how stupid it sounds.

Never would Lawrence depend on anyone again. Never would he be in a situation when anyone in any way had the power to tell him what to do.

And for some reason, Adam still can. He just doesn't know it. Lawrence's cheap impression of control with shackles and possessive hands has fooled even him.

Lawrence looks into Adam's eyes. Still without being there. And feels that it doesn't matter how much he loves him, he still wants to break his pretty face.

"I am physically unable to love," Lawrence says slowly, carves the words into Adam's soft flesh even though Adam doesn't seem to notice. "But I love you. I really do. That's exactly why you can't stay here."

The chilling spell on Adam's face is broken, his widened eyes roll to the ceiling, and he scoffs.

"Well, I'm sorry, Lawrence, but I'm still not afraid of you. And you can go on and on about the horrible things you've done to these guys, but you haven't done any of that to me, we've been through that. You're not a monster. Something's just gone wrong with you, hasn't it?"

Lawrence throws his hands up in the air, bites his lip to keep from screaming, angry in a childish way, but that's for Adam's sake.

If he shows his real anger, the red, the boiling, the furiously exploding, that beautiful face would be ruined.

"_Yes!" _he hisses, his whole face grimaces, and Adam's getting a little scared, finally, _finally. _"Something's gone real _fucking _wrong, and that's also why you can't stay here! I'm _sick, _okay? That's why I do this! That's why I can't let people be happy, I can't let things be beautiful, because if they're allowed to be happy and have it good, then why wasn't I, huh?"

Images flashing on his retina, the body weight on top of him, smothering, crushing.

Why only him? _Why? _

Why couldn't anyone else go through that? Why would they be allowed to be happy?

But Lawrence doesn't say any of that. He just takes a deep breath, carves new words into Adam's flesh. Carves in his imagination, because he'd never live with himself if he hurt him again.

"I love you. I kill things that I love. Ruin things that are beautiful. So please, if not for you, then for me: Go. Away."

He already knows that Adam won't leave. But when he says this, at least it brings a new kind of uncertainty to his eyes. One that hasn't been there before.

_He knows. _

It's like a death sentence. A curse.

Lawrence can barely stand on his feet anymore.

"You have killed someone, haven't you?"

His voice sounds different, too. Serious. Almost like a grownup.

Those eyes. The ones when Lawrence pulled the knife out. Pulled out the very final breath.

Nothing else mattered right then. It almost felt good.

"I didn't kill him."

Lawrence can't even look at him. But he still knows the way Adam looks at him.

"I didn't kill him."

"Who didn't you kill?"

The eyes. Lawrence will never forget them. The memory is locked around his throat, he can't breathe, _he has to fucking breathe!_

"It was an accident, he…" can't talk, "he was just like you, kept mouthing off, he kept trying to break loose from the chains, he… He was going to run away, and I couldn't… I couldn't let that happen, I…"

Lawrence thinks his eyes are on Adam's face right now. But he still doesn't see him, can't see past the thin film of memories that still won't go away.

"It wasn't on purpose!" Lawrence asks, pleads, he's clutching to Adam's shoulder without realizing it. "It was just… I thought he was going to leave me, I thought…"

Then it falls again. A death sentence, a curse, and Lawrence can't stand, he sinks to his knees under the weight of what he's done.

"I killed him… I… I killed him, Adam…"

Up until now, Adam's just been staring at him, mostly in horror, but now, the compassion finally rises up, and he pulls Lawrence to his feet.

"Come on, Lawrence," he mutters, and puts a hesitating arm around Lawrence's shoulder. "You're not a kid anymore, are you, stop weeping like that… It's okay… Sssh…"

But Lawrence doesn't seem to hear him, because he sobs like a little boy, clutches to Adam like he was slipping away into thin air, and Adam keeps holding him, because he's not afraid, even though Lawrence wants him to be.

He doesn't understand how Lawrence could do such a thing. He doesn't understand how he could do something like that and cry like this years later, but he doesn't have to understand, nothing has to make sense. As long as Lawrence doesn't try to make him go away again.

**Aw… Young love! Or, half young, and the other half is sort of going downhill. It's still a damn hot half, though! XD So, since we've given you an update on a horrible rape/serial killer-scenario, it's only fair if you review, right? **


	11. I Won't Let You Fall

**A/N: Yay! New chapter! Always a wonderful thing, isn't it? Anyway, I know you've been patient with us for these chapters and put up with an extreme lack of sex-scenes, and… Well, that won't be cured with this chapter, but you do get a little treat for it! If you can call it that. XD **

**10: I Won't Let You Fall**

Adam can't believe that he once feared the trembling figure in his arms, and that so many others still do. He looks so much smaller and so incredibly vulnerable now, almost like a child. A little kid that had just woken up from a terrible nightmare.

Maybe that's how it feels to Lawrence. It's a nightmare to finally admit to himself what he's done.

Adam lets go of Lawrence for a few moments to sit in front of him. Lawrence doesn't seem to be aware of that. Hell, he doesn't seem to be aware that they're sitting on the floor in the first place.

"Hey!" he snaps and takes Lawrence's tearstained cheeks between his hands, forcing him to look him in the eye. Lawrence's gaze flickers around the room, the ceiling, or just any place that isn't Adam's face, and Adam sighs audibly.

"Look at me!" Adam commands and Lawrence slowly finds focus in his eyes, a single tear runs down his cheek and gets caught in the corner of his mouth.

"I am not going to leave you!" Adam says, with pressure on every syllable. Meaning it.

Lawrence shakes his head slightly, almost unnoticeable. But Adam, who still has his hands on his cheeks, feels it clearly. His eyes say the same. He doesn't believe it.

"You don't believe me?" Lawrence keeps shaking his head. "I'll prove it!" Adam says harshly, he almost sounds mad.

He lets go of Lawrence's cheeks and stands up, looking down at the silently weeping man who's sitting on his knees on the ground. Pathetically crying in a way that almost annoys him.

"Come on, Lawrence! Stop crying like a little baby and grab my hand!" Adam says strictly, puts out his hand and Lawrence grabs it, almost looks surprised when Adam pulls him to his feet with more strength he should be capable off.

When they're face to face, Adam smiles sadly at him. Lawrence draws a hand over his eyes, and even though everything's straight to hell, he feels himself smiling back. He thinks Adam's stupid grins have that effect on most people.

"There's a smile I've never seen before," Adam mumbles warmly. "You almost look sane."

He knows he sounds like a mother talking to her son, but that's sort of intentional. He knows on some level that Lawrence never heard his own mother talk like that. Maybe if she had, he wouldn't have been this way.

"Sleep with me tonight," Adam says and puts his hand on Lawrence's, where it's planted on his cheek. "Just… Sleep, nothing else. Please."

Lawrence nods. He looks a bit disoriented, like he's not sure what's going on, but it's just because he's slipped back into his mind.

Adam was right when he thought that Lawrence's mother never talked to him like that. The relationship he had with his father was even worse, but there were days when he wasn't so sure.

There were days when the hatred he felt for her couldn't be described. When he saw her turned away eyes, her nervous fingers on the remote to the TV. Turning up the sound so she wouldn't have to hear.

Hearing. She was concerned about _hearing _it, while Lawrence was living it, his fragile little ten year old-body was living it with every punch, every word hissed into his ear.

Adam takes his hand and leads him through the corridor, to the door of his cell. He's suddenly the strong one of the two of them, and Lawrence doesn't mind it nearly as much as he should. He's too tired to disapprove, every cell of his body seems to be aching, craving Adam to even be able to stand up.

Adam doesn't open the door straight away, but stops outside and turns around. When he's sure that Lawrence's eyes are there, with him, he stands on his toes and kisses him, softly, smoothly.

"I love you."

The words sound so foreign to him. To them both, actually, and Adam lowers his gaze when he says them, but that doesn't make them any less true.

It's not the healthiest kind of love, Adam thinks when he opens the door and closes it when Lawrence has followed him in. They didn't meet under the best circumstances, and they're dysfunctional, both of them, like machines where the wheels spin warped and the ticking has stopped.

At least when they're alone.

And Adam has been alone for so long. Lawrence has surrounded himself with people that haven't filled the black void inside.

But when Adam lies down on the bed and drags Lawrence down with him, closes his eyes against the soiled shirt and feels Lawrence hesitatingly curl an arm around his waist, it feels like two broken hearts can mend at least one.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Adam has a dream that night. Or, actually, it can easily be his woken mind playing tricks on him. He's not sure.

There are no images in his dream, or hallucination, or whatever it is. Only sounds. A voice.

Johnny's voice.

_Why did you tell him? _

_He had to know. Why do you care?_

_He didn't have to know. _

_You're just mad about how I made you sound. _

He doesn't have an answer to that.

_That was how it happened, Johnny. You know that as well as I do. _

_Adam, if I hurt you, why can't you let me go? Why do you still love me? _

Pause. Adam hasn't opened his eyes once during their conversation, but now, he really squeezes them shut.

_Because… _

_Why? _

Adam whines something in the back of his throat.

It hurts. Everything hurts. The next sentence comes out as a mental scream.

_Why would I not love you? Why the fuck would I ever stop loving you? You're the love of my life, don't you get that? You found me, you helped me find who I was! How could I ever stop loving you? _

Johnny doesn't answer. Maybe because he relishes his victory, maybe it's a stunned silence. Adam feels tears leaking out from the corners of his eyes.

_But you have to leave me, okay? I'm so fucking sick of having you in my mind, I can't fucking _take _it anymore! It's too much, okay? It hurts too much! _

Still no answer.

_I don't think you get how much you mean to me. Or, maybe you do, because otherwise you wouldn't still be there, but still. If you've ever loved me, once in your life, leave me right now. _

Johnny doesn't leave. Adam feels him there.

But at least he's quiet now. And when Adam dares to open his eyes, just for a second, he finds that he's clutching to Lawrence's shirt so tight that it's a miracle he hasn't clawed a hole in it yet. 

He doesn't find himself capable of loosening his grip though. They lay there for a long time.

Adam is awake for a long time after that, too, but his eyes are closed, he doesn't want Lawrence to get that there's something wrong.

His emotions tangled in each other. Too much at once. He doesn't want it. He wants it to go away.

He feels guilty for loving Lawrence. He knows he shouldn't, but he does. He was never going to love another man. He promised that to Johnny, and it doesn't matter that Johnny promised the same and didn't exactly take it seriously. Adam can't let go of it yet. It doesn't work that way.

How the fuck could he? It's why he sat at home watching TV all day, why he never did a damn thing with his life! He had to stay away from people, or he would betray Johnny. And if he did he wouldn't be able to live with himself. Those accusing eyes would always stare at him asking him why he couldn't be with him.

Because Adam forgets what's real sometimes. His self-hatred sometimes blur the lines. It can make him see things. Like himself walking out on Johnny, like Johnny staying home all day, unemployed and uncomfortable in his own skin, thinking about his lost love.

"Adam?" Lawrence's tender voice pulls him out of his thoughts. Adam doesn't move yet, though. Doesn't want to admit his defeat just yet.

"Adam?" Lawrence says again.

"Adam, why are you crying?" Lawrence strokes Adam's wet cheek slightly and it's only then that Adam realizes that the sobbing sounds in the background are his. Then he sits up, runs two annoyed hands over his face and looks away.

"I wasn't crying…"

He dares to send Lawrence a quick glance, but then looks away again.

He looks so damn pitying. Adam keeps running his hand over his eyes. He's not sure if he's expected to say something, but it feels more like the ball's in Lawrence's court right now. People always have to _say _something to someone who's crying.

The only one Adam's known who never did that was Johnny.

_You never cried when you were with me, Adam. _

The tears well up again. He's right.

_You didn't cry, because you were happy. It wasn't even like before, when you almost never cried, because you wouldn't let yourself, you suppressed it all. When you were with me, you didn't even have to do that. Isn't that right?_

Adam feels the hand over his eyes trembling, and that feeling of memories so strong that they're like an outer coat, a layer over his skin, something so soft and delicate that he doesn't want it, inside him or outside. It can bring him down.

He promised. He promised himself something that soft and fragile would never be inside him again.

Adam waits for Lawrence to say something. But he doesn't, Adam just feels his eyes on him for a moment before Adam's calmed down, the tremblings have gone away and he can actually feel that outer coat fading away. Then he looks at Lawrence again. Can't really discern his face in the darkness, but he doesn't want to know the way he looks at him, anyway.

"It's not fair," Adam says blankly and throws his hand out. "I loved him. He said he loved me. How can love just… Go away like that? I mean, I don't know a lot about the subject, but I still love the guy even though he did that to me! He couldn't even stand the fact that I 'weighed him down?'"

He still doesn't see Lawrence's face, but then he sees a reached up arm, and takes that as an invite to bore his face into Lawrence's chest again. Strong arm around his shoulder.

"Adam," Lawrence mumbles into his hair. "You are easily one of the most thoughtful people I've ever met, even though I know you want to punch me in the fact right now for even noticing that. And other than that, you're cute as a fucking hell."

Pause.

"It's an unfair world," Lawrence goes on. "Good people very rarely get anything out of it, and bad people cruise through life knowing that they'll always have someone good to clean up their act after them. If they even care that much. Why do you think I do what I do?"

Adam chuckles briefly against Lawrence's skin. It sounds completely misplaced.

"Now you try to make yourself sound like a bad person again," he replies and looks up at Lawrence. "You don't do this because you know there won't be any consequences, you do it because someone's done something bad towards you and not had to pay for it. You're not born thinking like you do, it grows out. Trust me, I studied psychology in college."

His words linger in the air for a while, and Lawrence knows Adam thinks he's going to say something, but he doesn't.

If anyone but Adam had been that close to the truth, he would've been so mad. There's actually a good chance that would be the time for a second murder.

But he can't be mad at Adam. He doesn't really know why. He feels an old pain seeping out from under the lid of the box he's kept it in, slowly but surely, and filling his whole body, freezes around his heart.

So much for trying to suppress it.

Lawrence lets the pain fill him for about an hour, and Adam doesn't say anything in that period of time. When his breathing on Lawrence's chest has been slow and steady for a while, Lawrence looks down on him.

"Adam? Are you sleeping?"

Adam doesn't answer. Lawrence looks up, focuses on a hole in the mattress when the pain around his heart gets even colder.

"You're right, you know," Lawrence says. "Someone did something bad towards me. For a long time. I think it was between the age of six and twelve. Almost every day. It was… My father. He raped me. Or, maybe it wasn't rape, because I never told him to stop, or screamed, or fought, but… I don't think people get how big the need for love is when you're that young. My father didn't even talk to me other than those times, didn't look at me once in six years… Maybe he was ashamed of what he was doing, I don't know… But either way, that's why I let him do it. Because I didn't know how else to get him to love me."

Pause. The whole scenario is played out before him, through that hole in the mattress.

"My mom wasn't much better, either. She knew it was happening, and she was… She wasn't ashamed, I think she was scared. She didn't look at me once during those years, either. I could walk up to her with a scraped knee and ask her to get a band-aid, and she did, and she put it on my knee and told me that it'd be better if I got some ice cream and all that, but… She didn't look at me. She never did."

Pause again.

"My father's dead now, Adam, but… If he were alive, you'd be one of those people that cleaned his act up. One of those people that had to pay for the way he was. Because you're that… Good."

Lawrence looks down at Adam again. He hasn't even shifted.

"You're perfect."

It's amazing how a sentence can change its meaning so much depending on the situation you say it in.

**GASP! REVELATION! Didn't see that one coming, did you? I bet you thought we'd leave you hanging for another ten chapters, since quite frankly, that sounds like something we'd do. XD Either way, it's only fair if you review now, right? **


	12. You Made The Bed

**A/N: Okay, first off: I am **_**so **_**sorry for us being slow bitches. I'm almost lazier with updating this thing than I am with my other fics, because now it's two people who never have time to write, instead of one. But hey, misery loves company. XD Anyway, if you're still with us, read on! **

**11: You Made The Bed**

Adam doesn't dare to move, dare to let Lawrence know he's awake. He closes his eyes against his chest, squeezes them shut in a way that can't possibly look natural, but rather that than facing up to the situation. How the hell is he supposed to react to this? People don't tell him this stuff, partly because the few people he knows know that he can't give any advice worth a damn, partly because… Well, no one's really loved him the way Lawrence does. Except for that one time.

Whatever he'd say, he'd say the wrong thing. He will feel guilty, try to fix it but only make it worse. Lawrence won't tell him anything again. Only someone who's been through the same thing can talk about this, and Adam's been through some bad stuff, but he's never been hurt in the same both physical and emotional way, never been broken down by that by someone who was supposed to love him, what the hell would he say to this?

So he keeps quiet. Doesn't even shift, even though he knows that he's a fidgeting sleeper so it'd look more natural if he moved a little bit. He feels Lawrence eyes on him. He sees right through him.

He won't be able to sleep at all now, anyway. He's still dizzy from the blood loss, but there are too many questions in his head. Lawrence probably told him this in the hope that Adam would understand him better if he did, but Adam almost feels himself drifting further away from him, despite how tightly he's held against his chest.

How can you hurt someone in the same way you have been hurt? He's always known that people do it _(because Johnny did it, didn't he?), _but he's never lived as close to it as he does now.

Lawrence has been raped, and reacts on it by raping other people. Adam may be naïve, but he really doesn't get it. Doesn't get _why? _

Maybe he tries to create equals? Someone who understands him, and if not, suffers like he does? But Adam is not his equal. He probably never will be. He loves Lawrence, but they will never be the same and they will never completely understand each other. And just maybe… That's what makes him different from the others.

No matter what, Adam is suddenly aware that all this, this chaos, this fucked up environment and this darkest, deepest, most rotten part of human mind is his home now. This is his life, and he may have been just a dumb little kid who thought he'd suffered the great consequences of life because he'd been unhappily in love, but he's become aware now. Just how horrible people can be. And how loving.

Adam smiles softly. That was a mistake, and he realizes it two seconds too late.

_Fuck. _

"Adam, are you awake?"

He doesn't answer. Again, what is he supposed to say?

Adam keeps his eyes closed against Lawrence's chest, but it's no use. Lawrence puts his hand on his forehead and cranes his head back, Adam opens his eyes and mostly out of reflex, he gets the sudden urge to kiss Lawrence when he sees his face just inches away and has to convince his pounding bloodstream that now is not the time.

Lawrence moves his hand down to his cheek, and for a second, his eyes get dark in that cold, merciless way. Adam's brief second of arousal washes away when he sees that Lawrence seems to have forgotten about the fact that he's supposed to have changed now, and could easily consider hitting him. Or worse.

Lawrence's old, dark eyes stare into Adam's. He knows that Lawrence won't say anything before he does, but he really has no idea what that would be. For starters, he's not sure if he's supposed to apologize or not, and second, what do you say, what do you say to ease the pain in the wound that Lawrence just tore open for him to see?

"I'm sorry," is all Adam can think about.

That's probably not what Lawrence wanted to hear, but it still breaks the spell. Lawrence takes his hand away and looks down, exhales slowly.

"Yeah," he says.

Adam keeps looking at him. He's waiting for Lawrence to say something, but his face seems to have closed down, like a window he didn't dare to climb through, and he doesn't meet Adam's gaze. Eventually, Adam gives up and lies back down with his head on Lawrence's chest. It's usually easier to talk that way, he's learned.

"I was so scared," Lawrence says after a few seconds. "I spent so much time being scared."

Pause. Adam looks at the wall in front of him.

It usually takes him forever to think of smart answers, but now, they come to him before he's even managed to register them. Like he's wanted to say them all along.

"If that's the excuse you use for this, it makes sense," he says without looking at the face above him. "You were scared all that time, and it gives you a sense of power and revenge that you can make other people as scared as you were. I get that. It makes sense."

Then he props his head up again and looks directly at Lawrence. Lawrence doesn't look back, but Adam didn't expect him to, and besides, he's going to tell Lawrence this whether he wants to hear it or not.

"But do you really want to be him?" he spits out, and he sees that the words land in the right place. "He ruined your life, and you've spent your whole life hating him. Don't you want to be something better? Are you really going to let him do that to you after all he's already done, and ruin your life even when you're grown up and he's dead?"

Lawrence still doesn't look at him. His eyes are locked on the ceiling, terrified, trying to be hateful but feeling the resent he's hold on to for so long but slipping through his fingers.

"I've never wanted to be something I like," he finally gets out.

His words are pitiful. Adam doesn't count them as a legitimate excuse. He just scoffs and puts his head back down.

"You're going to be," he says firmly. "Tomorrow, I'm going to get into your office and get the keys to all the cells, and if you have a problem with that, you're just going to have to kill me."

Lawrence swallows.

"Okay."

Adam smiles thinly. Closes his eyes again.

When he hears Lawrence's faint sobs through the drowsiness washing over him, he doesn't try to comfort him. In fact, he takes it as a good sign. And this is Lawrence's demons, anyway, Adam wouldn't be able to help him with them if he tried.

But he finds comfort in knowing what those sobs teach him, the shameful display of vulnerability that they won't talk about and won't acknowledge at all, but both know is there, and is significant.

They're both going to let go of the hate now.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Adam wakes up.

The first thing he notices is Lawrence's back against him, they've drifted apart in their sleep. No comforting arms around him and his blanket is too thin for the raw cold in his cell. So why is he so hot? Why does it feel like every organ in his body is swelling, warm, inflamed, crawling through his system?

And more importantly, why does he, despite of how hot he is, feel so cold that he's shaking, his teeth chattering on their own accord because he himself doesn't have anything near the strength to do it himself?

Adam feels a dull panic rising in that side of him that knows that this is serious, even though the other side of him just wants to sleep, and fuck if he doesn't wake up again, he's tired, and he wants to sleep. But either way, the dry sob that scratches over his throat is enough to wake Lawrence up, roll over and put his arms around the shivering body when he feels him crawl closer. He knows something is wrong. That doesn't mean he's going to acknowledge it.

A cold, sweaty chest is pressed against his warm, naked one and he hears teeth chattering. Lawrence tries to ignore the panic rising in him, too, his heart that starts beating in the same fluttering _tic-tic-_rate as the one that beats with his. But it's hard.

"Adam, is something wrong?"

No answer. But that's not because he's sick.

"Adam, what's wrong? Why are you shaking like that and…"

Voice cracking. That's not because he's crying.

Adam coughs, his whole body convulses. Then he licks his parched lips and tries to speak.

"Lawrence…"

That's all. More terrifying than any actual words he could ever say. Lawrence stops breathing for a second without even noticing and pulls Adam closer as he tries to ignore that the raspy, cracked voice he's just heard didn't belong to the one he loves at all.

"Adam, are you sick?"

Adam would rather die than admitting that out loud, he knows that.

That's why it's even more terrifying when he feels Adam nodding against his chest.

It's like saying that he's already dead.

Lawrence swallows. Everything seems to happen very quickly. Everything except for his own movements and thoughts, that seems to be swimming through syrup to get anywhere at all. But Adam clutches desperately to Lawrence and Lawrence feels his own slow motion-arms closing around him and his heavy hands stroking his back. Trying to calm him down.

Trying to calm himself. He puts his hand on Adam's forehead, cranes his head back. Like yesterday, but in the meantime, nothing at all like then.

Pale, sweaty… And even in the dim, yellow light from the barred window, he can see that Adam's face is almost grey. Okay. Okay. Old information. The file cabinets in his head spinning around, old folders dusting off. Letters blurry.

Just like always when he has to become a doctor again. Like always when one of his guys _(they're prisoners, Lawrence, they were always prisoners) _gets sick, malnourished, infected wounds, all those things, fine, but never this bad, what's happening, _what the fuck is happening, what the FUCK is happening… _

Lawrence puts a hand over his mouth, trapping the helpless whining inside. This is not the time. Doctor again, doctors don't cry. He's the doctor, and Adam is his patient, not his lover. He isn't him. This isn't for real.

The sweat is slippery on someone else's skin. The heat is radiating from someone else's cheeks.

And when he thinks like that, it's easier to think back. Lawrence puts both hands over his eyes and goes in his mind through what Adam could've done, anything that could've set this off, something he ate, something that could've gotten him…

Infected.

That thought stops everything. It's like that moment when the ball stops in the Russian roulette. Lawrence sits up and looks down at Adam.

The knife Lawrence put in Adam's throat. The office Lawrence carried him into. The needle Lawrence used to close the wound.

Neither of those things had been sterilized. They hadn't even been remotely clean, and he'd probably used them on a lot of people before him.

That's when it lands. A cold bullet in Lawrence's chest, expanded, exploding.

Septic. Adam is septic. And if it's not a full-blown infection yet, he's definitely in the middle stages of becoming septic.

The filth of Lawrence's anger is flowing through his veins, in his blood, eating him inside out. It's in his blood. It's in him. And Lawrence put it there. He put a knife in his throat, and that knife is killing him even when the wound is shut.

The disease is in his blood. And it was Lawrence who put it there.

…**God, Lawrence can be an idiot sometimes. XD Well, I guess that's what keeps the story up. I hope you'll review! **


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